V 


by  Lode 


E.  A.  WEEKS  & COMPANY, 


CHICAGO. 

Thk  Marguerite  Series.— No.  7,  July,  1,  1893.  Issued  Semi-Monthly.  Subscription  Price, 
$l).00  per  year.  Entered  at  Chicago  Postoffice  as  second-class  matter. 


•Univ.  of  HI.  Library 

5 2 


/4/o 

••  .rr  rvrs =■*«■"«  r***1- ■ 


FOILED  BY  LOYE. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE 


By 

BERTHA  U.  CLAY. 


Copyright  1893,  Melbourne  Pub.  Co. 


FULLY  ILLUSTRATED. 


CHICAGO: 

E.  A.  WEEKS  & COMPANY, 

276  and  278  Franklin  Street. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ik  the  front  room  of  a house  in  Fig  street,  Chelsea,  a 
woman  and  a girl  are  seated  at  work. 

The  former  is  darning  a coarse  stocking,  much  the  worse 
for  wear.  The  latter  is  making  a pencil  drawing  of  an 
artistic-looking  jug  that  stands  upon  the  table. 

Both  are  silent.  The  mother  is  busy  with  thoughts 
which  give  a sad  expression  to  a face  still  refined,  but  once 
beautiful.  She  is  plainly  and  simply  dressed,  in  coarse  blue 
serge,  but  her  gown  is  made  with  taste ; it  fits  her  still 
graceful  figure  perfectly,  and  there  is  a neatness  about  the 
plain  linen  collar  and  the  well-brushed  but  faded  hair 
such  as  one  but  rarely  sees  in  a woman  of  her  station  in 
life. 

Presently  she  says : 

“ You  must  get  on  quickly  with  your  lessons,  Hetty ; 
there  are  those  slippers  to  fill  in  for  the  Berlin  wool-shop,  I 
promised  them  by  to-morrow  morning ; and  these  stockings 
must  be  mended.  You  can  do  which  you  like.” 

“Just  another  minute,  mother,”  is  the  answer,  “then  I 
shall  have  finished  this,  and  I will  get  on  with  the  slippers. 
You  know  I never  can  darn  stockings,  I always  make  them 
in  lumps.” 

“ That  is  because  you  don’t  make  up  your  mind  to  mend 
them  properly,”  is  the  quiet  reply.  “If  you  resolutely 
determined  to  do  any  one  thing  well,  you  may  be  quite 
sure  you  would  succeed.” 

“So  you  have  often  told  me,  mother,”  responds  Hetty, 


8 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


thoughtfully,  pausing  to  bite  her  pencil,  “and  1 have  won- 
dered that,  as  you  believe  this,  and  are  so  very  clever,  that 
you  have  not  done  something  in  all  your  life  to  make  you 
rich  or  famous.” 

“ If  a man  or  a woman  falls  so  low  in  the  social  scale  as  I 
have  fallen,  they  never  rise  again,”  replies  Mrs.  Hamblin, 
sadly.  “ But  don’t  talk  or  think  of  me ; I am  no  example 
for  you  or  for  any  woman.  You  have  your  way  to  make  in 
the  world,  Hetty,  and  provided  you  are  honest  and  pure 
you  must  succeed  in  attaining  an  honorable  position.” 

“You  have  been  a dear,  good  mother  to  Chris  and  me,” 
cries  the  girl,  flinging  her  arms  round  her  parent’s  neck, 
and  kissing  her  fondly. 

Then,  as  her  mother  pauses  to  respond,  pressing  her  ten- 
derly round  the  waist,  and  murmuring,  “My  precious 
one  ! ” Hetty  asks,  softly  : 

“ What  was  my  grandfather’s  name,  mother  ? What 
were  you  before  you  married  my  father  ? ” 

Mrs.  Hamblin  starts  from  her  daughter’s  embrace  as 
though  the  question  had  wrounded  her  in  some  vital  part ; 
her  face  becomes  deadly  pale,  she  presses  her  hands  upon 
her  heart,  then  says,  in  a low,  pain- wrung  voice : 

“Never  ask  that  question  again,  never  seek  to  know  the 
answer  ! When  I left  my  father’s  house  to  marry  he  read 
the  funeral  service  over  the  child  he  had  lost,  and  I died  to 
him  and  to  my  old  life  as  completely  as  though  I had  indeed 
been  buried.” 

Then,  with  her  head  bent  upon  her  breast  and  her  whole 
figure  drooping,  the  unhappy  woman  walks  out  of  the  room, 
and  the  troubled  girl  is  left  alone. 

For  a few  seconds  Hetty  continues  to  bite  her  pencil 
meditatively  ; then  she  flings  it  down,  and,  springing  to  her 
feet,  exclaims,  passionately  : 

“ What  a horrid  old  man  my  grandfather  must  have  been, 
to  read  the  funeral  service  over  his  daughter,  whom  he  knew 
to  be  alive  ! Not  much  like  my  father ; he  lets  me  do  just 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 9 

as  I please.  Dear  old  dad ! He  would  be  perfect  if  he 
were  always  sober.” 

This  last  thought  brings  a train  of  painful  recollections 
to  her  mind,  and,  with  a view  of  abstracting  her  thoughts 
from  the  great  blot  upon  their  domestic  life,  Hetty  finds  the 
canvas  intended  for  slippers,  and  soon  she  is  industriously 
at  work  upon  it. 

There  is  very  little  money  to  be  made  at  this  work,  and 
Hetty  and  her  mother  have,  neither  of  them,  much  time  to 
give  to  it,  but  the  three  or  four  shillings  a week  they  man- 
age to  earn  between  them  helps  to  supply  their  simple  ward- 
robe. 

As  she  sits  there  in  the  plainly-furnished  room,  with  the 
dainty  woolwork  in  her  hands,  Hetty  Hamblin  makes  as 
fair  a picture  as  will  ever  hang  upon  the  walls  of  the  Royal 
Academy. 

She  is  very  young,  scarcely  sixteen,  but  she  is  tall  and 
well  developed  for  her  age ; her  waist  is  small  and  beauti- 
fully round,  her  complexion  is  clear  and  white,  her  neck  is 
like  a pillar  of  ivory,  and  her  hair  has  that  peculiar  tinge 
of  bronze,  with  a glint  of  gold  in  it,  which  is  more  often 
seen  in  Venetian  pictures  than  in  real  life. 

But  it  is  her  eyes  — those  long,  liquid,  lustrous  eyes,  that 
give  the  greatest  charm  to  the  face — those  eyes  look  purple 
and  violet  and  blue,  as  the  light  falls  upon  them ; while  a 
careless  observer  wcfuld  think  they  were  black,  so  long  and 
heavy  are  the  curling  eyelashes  that  sweep  the  fair  cheek, 
upon  which  they  so  often  rest. 

It  is  a singular  and  a beautiful  face,  with  features  of  a 
high  order  ; quite  a contrast  to  all  the  girl's  surroundings, 
which  are  coarse  and  sordid  and  mean. 

But  Hetty's  surroundings  have  been  pretty  much  the 
same  ever  since  she  was  born,  sometimes  worse,  never 
better.  Therefore  her  innate  grace  and  beauty  must  have 
been  inherited  from  either  or  both  of  her  parents.  Plain 
as  is  the  furniture  of  the  room,  there  is  something  suggest- 


10 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


ive  of  stables  about  it  all  — there  are  whips  and  spurs  and 
bits  hung  on  the  walls,  or  reposing  on  shelves ; while  the 
portraits  of  some  famous  racers  look  down  on  the  solid  deal 
table,  now  covered  with  a faded  red  cloth;  the  wooden 
arm-chair,  evidently  used  by  the  master  of  the  household  ; 
the  horse-hair  couch,  the  cracked  chimney-glass,  and  the 
threadbare  pieces  of  carpet  that  are  flung  upon  the  floor. 

But  there  are  two  things  in  this  apartment,  besides  the 
fair  girl  that  occupies  it,  that  help  to  humanize  and  refine 
it  — one  is  a carefully-tended  flower,  which  blooms  by  the 
window ; the  other  is  a piano,  not  new,  or  even  modern  in 
shape,  but  which  shows  signs  of  much  usage ; while  the 
pile  of  worn  and  discolored  music  is  a clear  proof  that 
somebody  here  knows  how  to  play. 

Hetty  is  industriously  stitching,  and  is  thinking  of  her 
mother,  and  of  the  grandeur  she  must  have  left  behind  her 
when  she  deserted  her  father’s  roof  to  marry  a man  infinitely 
below  her  in  social  position,  when  a loud  rat,  tat,  tat,  tat, 
comes  upon  the  front  door,  and  she  flings  down  her  work 
and  hastens  to  obey  the  summons. 

Of  course,  no  servant  is  kept  in  this  house;  Hetty  and  her 
mother  do  all  the  household  work.  There  is  sometimes 
even  a struggle  to  keep  a roof  over  their  heads;  and,  as  it 
is,  the  one  odd  room  that  can  be  spared  is  let  to  a still  more 
humble  lodger. 

But  no  lodger  in  so  small  an  establishment  would  come 
to  the  door  with  such  a thundering  knock,  and  Hetty  is  so 
startled  that  she  has  reached  the  passage  and  opened  the 
door  before  her  mother  has  got  to  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

“ Does  Joe  Hamblin  live  here  ! ” asks  a haughty  and  imper- 
ious voice. 

“ Yes,  sir,”  is  the  reply. 

“ Is  he  in  ? ” is  the  next  question,  uttered  in  the  same 
tone;  but  evidently  spoken  before  the  questioner  has 
had  time  to  look  at  the  girl  who  has  answered  him,  for  the 
gentleman’s  voice  perceptibly  changes,  as  he  next  asks; 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


11 


“ Pardon  me;  do  you  expect  him  home  shortly  ?” 

“I  don't  know,  he  is  very  uncertain;  but  I will  ask  my 
mother/’  says  Hetty,  coloring  deeply  under  the  bold  eyes 
which  are  gazing  in  admiration  upon  her  face. 

“No  need  to  do  that;  I will  come  in  and  wait,”  is  the 
next  assured  remark. 

And,  despite  the  girl’s  evident  reluctance  to  admit  him, 
he  walks  into  the  house  as  though  wherever  he  chose  to 
bestow  his  presence  it  must  be  welcome. 

Hetty  retreats  before  him  rather  than  leads  the  way  into 
the  living  room;  she  is  too  much  of  a child,  despite  her 
height,  too  much  unversed  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  to  bar 
his  entrance,  but  she  knows  that  he  ought  not  to  come 
here,  that  both  her  father  and  mother  will  be  annoyed  at 
his  presence,  and  after  pointing  to  a seat  she  would 
leave  him  alone,  if  he  did  not  detain  her  by  asking: 

“Is  Joe  Hamblin  your  father  ? ”. 

She  replies  in  the  affirmative. 

“I  thought  there  was  a likeness,”  he  remarks.  “He  is  a 
trainer  of  horses,  isn’t  he  ? ” 

“Yes,”  she  returns,  nervously. 

“I  thought  as  much,”  he  goes  on.  “He  has  been  recom- 
mended to  me;  he  is  not  in  any  regular  employment  at 
present,  is  he  ? ” 

“I  think  not,  but  I don’t  quite  know;  here  is  my  mother, 
she  can  tell  you  better  than  I.” 

And  as  Hetty  speaks,  Mrs.  Hamblin,  very  pale,  but  calm 
and  self-possessed,  comes  into  the  room. 

Lord  Claude  Irongate  is  sufficiently  startled  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  trainer’s  wife  to  rise  and  bow  with  much 
more  deference  than  he  is  in  the  habit  of  showing  to  women 
in  humble  life  ; for  there  is  something  in  Mrs.  Hamblin’s 
face  that  commands  respect  from  the  highest  as  well  as  the 
lowest,  and  while  in  her  presence  Lord  Claude  can  but  yield 
to  her  influence. 


12 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“I  want  to  see  Joe  Hamblin/’  he  says,  courteously ; “he 
will  be  back  soon,  will  he  not  ? ” 

“No,  I don’t  expect  him  till  the  evening,”  is  the  reply. 
“Pardon  me,  I must  have  misunderstood,”  he  says,  turn- 
ing to  Hetty  with  a sweet  smile,  as  though  he  were  asking 
her  to  help  him  out  of  his  difficulty. 

But  she  says,  steadily  : 

“I  told  you  I did  not  know  when  he  would  be  back.” 

“ Ah,  how  stupid  of  me  ! ” he  remarks,  with  a laugh  at 
his  own  expense  ; mentally,  he  adds  : 

“ What  a little  fool  the  girl  is  ; why  couldn’t  she  help  me 
over  the  stile  ? But  I rather  like  a pretty  simpleton ; it  will  be 
refreshing  after  the  blue  stockings  with  whom  I have  lately 
been  thrown.  ” Then,  with  the  adroitness  of  a man  of  the 
world,  he  says,  aloud  : 

“ You  live  in  a very  out-of-the-way  place  ; I have  had 
some  difficulty  in  finding  you.” 

“The  postman  has  no  difficulty,”  says  Mrs.  Hamblin, 
quietly,  “and  my  husband  rarely  has  any  one  to  come  here.” 
“No,  I should  think  not,”  responds  his  lordship,  a trifle 
more  curtly. 

He  understands  that  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  not  to  be  won  over 
to  talk  in  a friendly  or  confidential  tone,  neither  is  she  at 
all  likely  to  leave  her  daughter  to  converse  with  him ; so  he 
returns  to  the  business  that  brought  him  here,  and,  produc- 
ing his  card-case,  he  writes  the  name  of  a hotel  upon  a 
piece  of  pasteboard,  and,  leaving  it  upon  the  table,  says  : 

“ There  is  my  card ; please  tell  Hamblin  to  call  on  me 
to-morrow  before  ten.” 

Then,  with  a gracious  bow  to  Hetty,  and  a much  less 
effusive  one  to  her  mother,  he  returns  to  the  front  door, 
Mrs.  Hamblin  following  him. 

When  the  latter  comes  back  to  the  room,  she  finds  her 
daughter  reading  the  visiting  card,  speculating  upon  its 
owner. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


13 


“ Lord  Claude  Irongate,”  she  reads  aloud ; “ isn’t  it  a pretty 
name,,  mother,  and  isn’t  he  handsome?” 

“I  neither  admire  him  nor  his  name/’  is  the  sharply 
uttered  response;  “ and  I cannot  understand  why  you  Nought 
him  into  this  place.” 

“I  didn’t  bring  him,  mother,  he  came  without  being 
asked,”  protests  the  girl. 

But  her  parent  waves  her  hand  as  though  she  would  say, 
“ Enough  of  this,”  and  a minute  or  two  afterward  she 
inquires  how  Hetty  is  getting  on  with  her  work. 

For  a full  hour  after  this  Hetty  and  her  mother  continue 
to  ply  their  needles,  the  silence  between  them  almost  un- 
broken. Mrs.  Hamblin’s  thoughts  have  wandered  back  to 
the  past,  Hetty’s  are  busy  with  the  present. 

She  is  thinking  of  Lord  Claude’s  handsome  face,  of  his 
golden  hair,  his  long  drooping  mustache,  and  of  that  inde- 
finable something  about  him  which  reminds  her  of  her 
mother. 

Hetty  is  not  clever  at  putting  two  and  two  together  to 
arrive  at  any  given  result,  and  her  experience  of  the  world 
has  been  too  slight  for  her  to  realize  that  her  mother  and 
this  young  lord  had  possibly  sprung  from  the  same  class  in 
society,  rather  than  that  there  is  any  real  similarity  between 
them. 

She  is  still  thinking  of  their  recent  visitor,  when  the  sound 
of  a latch-key  opening  the  front  door  is  quickly  followed  by 
the  entrance  of  her  father. 

As  a specimen  of  mere  physical  beauty,  Joe  Hamblin 
would  have  borne  off  the  prize  twenty  years  ago  in  any  com- 
petition; he  is  a handsome-looking  man  still,  but  he  bears 
upon  his  puffy  cheeks  and  bleared  eyes  the  indelible  marks 
of  the  drunkard. 

He  is  sober  this  morning,  probably  because  his  pockets 
are  empty,  and,  after  a growl  of  greeting,  he  asks  impa- 
tiently: 

“Haven’t  you  got  any  dinner  for  a man?  I’m  hungry! ” 


14 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“I  didn’t  expect  you/’  replies  his  wife,,  indifferently;  but 
there  is  some  cold  meat.  Hetty,  lay  the  cloth  and  fetch  it 
from  the  safe.” 

“Cold  meat!”  growls  Hamblin,  discontentedly;  “you 
know  I hate  cold  meat.  On  such  a day  as  this,  too,  with  a 
north-east  wind  freezing  the  blood  in  my  veins.” 

“You  should  have  said  you  were  coming  home  to  dinner,” 
retorts  the  wife,  quietly. 

But  her  husband  does  not  heed  her,  his  eye  has  caught 
sight  of  the  visiting  card,  and  he  pounces  upon  it  eagerly. 

“ Lord  Claude  Irongate  ! ” he  cries  ; “ the  very  swell  I’ve 
wanted  to  know.  I’m  in  luck’s  way ! His  horse  Nimrod 
won  the  Lancaster  plate  last  year.” 

Then  he  makes  his  wife  and  daughter  repeat  all  that  his: 
lordship  has  said  to  them,  and  he  is  so  elated  at  the  pros- 
pect of  the  forthcoming  interview  that  he  forgets  to  grumble 
any  more  about  his  cold  dinner,  and  does  not  even  make  a 
complaint  at  having  to  drink  water  with  his  meal  instead 
of  ale. 

But  even  as  he  eats  he  talks.  He  is  as  sanguine  and  as 
easily  elated  as  a child,  and  he  begins  to  speculate  upon  the 
employment  which  Lord  Claude  means  to  offer  him,  his 
imagination  even  going  so  far  as  the  management  of  his 
stud  of  race  horses  and  a comfortable  house  to  live  in. 

“A  house  in  the  country,  father,”  exclaims  Hetty;  “oh, 
wouldn’t  that  be  delightful?  Just  think  of  being  awakened 
by  the  lark  in  the  morning ; of  having  dear  little  chickens 
to  feed  ; of  wandering  in  the  woods  and  picking  the  prim- 
roses and  violets  and  wild  anemones ; of  hearing  the  low- 
ing of  cattle,  the  gurgling  of  water,  and  seeing  the  clear, 
blue  sky  overhead.  Away  from  all  the  bricks  and  mortar, 
and  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  streets ; oh,  it  would  be  like 
heaven  to  me  ! ” 

Then,  turning  to  her  other  parent,  she  asks  : 

“Wouldn’t  you  like  it,  mother  ?” 

“No,”  is  the  cold  but  emphatic  reply. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


15 


u Your  mother  never  likes  anything  that  other  folks  do,” 
growls  Hamblin,  “ but  she  must  take  what  she  can  get,  like 
the  rest  of  us.” 

Then  he  lights  his  pipe,  and  sits  over  the  fire  smoking. 

His  wife  and  he  are  as  far  asunder  as  the  poles  in  thought, 
tastes  and  sympathy. 

Whatever  love  or  passion  gilded  the  first  few  months  of 
their  married  life  has  long  since  disappeared,  and  he  has 
painfully  realized  that  it  would  have  been  far  better  for 
him  to  have  married  a woman  in  his  own  station  than  to 
have  aspired  to  the  hand  of  his  master's  daughter. 

As  for  her,  she  has  hundreds  of  times  wished  that  she 
had  died  rather  than  have  married  as  she  did. 

It  is  the  children  that  have  kept  them  together,  and  that 
have  made  life  endurable  to  both  ; and  it  is  with  the  for- 
tunes of  one  of  those  children  that  we  have  most  to  do. 

But  this  day  comes  to  a close,  as  other  days  before  it  have 
died  away,  and  on  the  following  morning  Joe  Hamblin 
returns  from  his  interview  with  Lord  Claude  Irongate  with 
the  announcement  that  he  has  accepted  the  post  of  head 
trainer  to  his  lordship's  stud,  that  he  has  likewise  obtained 
a berth  at  the  same  place  for  his  son  Chris,  and  that  before 
the  end  of  the  week  they  'and  all  their  belongings  must 
transfer  themselves  to  Stanmoor. 

“ Stanmoor  ! ” repeats  Mrs.  Hamblin,  with  white  lips  and 
pallid  cheeks  ; “ it  is  impossible,  I cannot  — I will  not  go 
there.” 

And  her  husband  replies,  moodily  : 

“ You  must  please  yourself.  I'm  not  going  to  stay  in 
London  to  starve  ; I shall  go  myself,  and  shall  take  Hetty 
and  Chris  with  me.” 

And  he  knows,  from  the  groan  his  wife  utters,  that  he 
will  take  her  also. 


16 


FOILED  BY  LOVl 7. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Chris  Hamblin  is  a handsome,  good-natured  little  fel- 
low ; lithe  of  limb  and  light  of  weight,  and  he  stands  a 
chance,  with  good  luck,  of  being  one  of  the  most  successful 
jockeys  of  the  day. 

He  is  very  fond  of  his  sister,  and  is  proportionately 
afraid  of  his  mother,  between  whom  and  himself  there 
never  has  been  any  confidence,  while  there  has  been  as  little 
love. 

For  Chris  is  like  his  father  on  a smaller  scale  — no  trace 
of  high  birth  or  of  gentle  blood  is  to  be  found  in  him  ; he 
is  a jockey  pure  and  simple,  fond  of  horses,  learned  in  all 
the  tricks  of  the  stable,  his  great  ambition  being  to  ride  the 
winner  of  the  Derby  or  of  some  other  famous  race,  and  to 
grow  rich  as  many  men  of  the  same  calling  have  done  before 
him. 

Chris  has  no  ambition  to  be  anything  more  than  a jockey. 

He  knows  that  his  mother  was  born  a lady,  but  he  does 
not  desire  to  be  like  any  of  her  family.  Learning  was  always 
a trouble  to  him,  and  when  he  left  the  board-school, 
he  did  so  because  he  was  old  enough  to  escape  from  author- 
ity, and  not  because  of  any  proficiency  in  his  studies. 

With  Hetty  matters  were  widely  different ; she  learned 
rapidly,  she  delighted  in  study,  and  she  has  already  made 
great  progress  both  in  music  and  drawing. 

So  matters  stand  when  the  Hamblins  move  to  Stanmoor 
— a big  rambling  house,  built  on  the  side  of  a hill,  with 
extensive  stables  and  outhouses  standing  a good  quarter  of 
a mile  in  the  rear. 

The  great  feature  of  Stanmoor  is  its  stables.  The  house 
itself  has  a neglected  appearance,  as  though  it  had  fallen 
in  its  fortunes  from  the  residence  of  a gentleman  to  that  of 
an  upper  servant ; and  the  extensive  grounds,  which  are 
planted  with  many  rare  trees  brought  from  foreign  coun- 
tries, look  wild  and  uncared  for. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


1? 


At  the  bottom  of  the  hill  winds  the  sluggish  river,  look- 
ing like  a ribbon  of  shining  silver  as  Hetty  and  her  mother 
first  come  in  view  of  the  house. 

The  girl  utters  a cry  of  delight,  and  the  mother  smiles 
faintly  in  sympathy  with  her  daughter’s  pleasure  ; but  the 
smile  soon  disappears,  for  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  uneasy  and  sus- 
picious, and  the  very  liberality  with  wThich  Lord  Claude 
Irongate  has  treated  them  has  alarmed  and  surprised  her. 

But  his  lordship  has  more  than  one  motive  for  this  con- 
duct : Joe  Hamblin  is  known  as  a good  trainer  and  honest 
in  his  way,  and  Chris  is  a careful  though  fearless  rider,  so 
father  and  son  may  help  to  put  some  thousands  of  pounds 
into  his  pockets  ; while  the  presence  of  an  exceedingly 
pretty  girl  at  Stanmoor,  is  a by  no  means  unwelcome 
attraction. 

The  Hamblins  have  not  been  at  Stanmoor  a week,  how- 
ever, before  Lord  Claude  understands  that  Hetty  is  care- 
fully kept  out  of  his  way  by  her  mother. 

At  first  he  is  irritated  by  Mrs.  Hamblin’s  watchfulness, 
and  by  the  quiet  manner  in  which  she  keeps  him  at  a 
distance,  ignoring  alike  his  condescension  and  his  attempts 
at  friendliness  and  familiarity  ; her  husband  and  son  are 
his  servants,  but  she  and  her  daughter  are  not,  and  though 
she  dare  not  say  so,  she  more  than  once  makes  him  feel 
that,  despite  his  solicitude  for  their  comfort,  he  has 
absolutely  no  business  in  the  house. 

Hetty  is  unconscious  of  all  this.  In  the  new  life  that  has 
opened  out  to  her  she  takes  unceasing  pleasure  ; her  mother 
is  now  able  to  afford  a country  servant  to  do  the  household 
work,  and  this  leaves  her  free  to  pursue  her  studies,  and  to 
give  much  of  her  time  to  the  garden,  which  has  been  sadly 
neglected. 

It  was  February  when  they  first  came  here,  and  the  bitter 
east  wind  made  walking  in  the  open  country  disagreeable  ; 
added  to  which,  Hetty  has  an  unreasonable  fear  of  cows  and 
of  all  horned  cattle,  and  for  a little  while  her  walks  are  con- 


18  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

fined  to  the  neglected  grounds  of  the  house,  or  consist  in 
going  to  the  neighboring  town,  which  is  only  a mile  distant. 

Here  there  is  a public  library  where  she  can  get  books  to 
read  free  of  charge  ; and  there  is  also  the  church  to  which 
she  and  her  mother  go  regularly  every  Sunday. 

It  is  at  church  principally  that  she  sees  Lord  Claude  Iron- 
gate  and  his  sister  — Lady  Daphne,  with  their  aunt,  who 
lives  with  them,  and  who  takes  the  place  of  a mother  to  her 
brother’s  children. 

There  are  other  people  of  distinction  and  position  who 
attend  this  church,  and  whose  very  names  are  unknown  to 
Hetty ; but  she  looks  at  them  wonder ingly  from  her  far- 
away place  in  the  free  seats,  until  their  faces  become  famil- 
iar to  her, 

There  is  one  gentleman’s  face  for  which  she  looks  every 
Sunday.  What  magnet  draws  her  eyes  toward  him  she  can- 
not tell,  but  Lord  Claude  knows  him,  so  does  Lady  Daphne, 
and  it  may  be  the  fact  of  this  lady’s  face  lighting  up  with 
sudden  brightness  when  she  first  meets  this  gentleman  that 
makes  Hetty  think  there  must  be  something  unusually  fas- 
cinating about  him. 

But  the  great  families  that  live  around  Colneford  are  a 
constant  source  of  interest  to  Hetty,  and  she  wonders  vaguely 
how  it  is  that  a great  social  gulf  yawns  between  her  and 
them. 

That  the  gulf  is  there,  and  cannot  be  passed  over.  Lord 
Claude  always  makes  her  feel,  if  by  any  chance  he  can  man- 
age to  speak  with  her  out  of  the  hearing  of  others  ; for  his 
easy  familiarity  grates  upon  her  nerves,  and  rouses  her 
pride,  sets  her  whole  soul  up  in  arms  against  him,  and  drives 
her  to  fly  for  refuge  from  his  bold  admiration  with  her 
father,  or  Chris,  or,  still  better,  with  her  mother. 

Conscious  that  their  daily  bread  depends  upon  the  favor 
of  this  man,  whose  admiration  is  little  better  than  an 
insult,  Hetty  makes  no  complaint  to  any  one ; but  she 
avoids  Lord  Claude  as  much  as  possible*  and  hopes  that 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  19 

when  he  sees  how  unwelcome  are  his  honeyed  words  he  will 
cease  to  whisper  them  in  her  ears. 

April  and  May  have  gone  by  ; it  is  the  month  of  June, 
and  roses  are  climbing  over  the  front  of  the  house  in  which 
Hetty  and  her  parents  live,  and  one  white  bud  looks  in  at 
her  chamber  window ; the  whole  of  the  country  also  is 
beautiful  with  flowers  and  foliage,  and  Hetty  has  by  this 
time  managed  to  become  acquainted  with  the  most  lovely 
spots  for  several  miles  round. 

On  this  particular  day,  Hetty  hastens  to  finish  the  task 
set  her  by  her  mother  ; and  as  soon  as  dinner  is  over,  while 
Mrs.  Hamblin,  who  is  not  very  well,  lies  down  to  rest  for 
awhile,  Hetty,  with  a hat  on  her  head  and  a pretty  basket 
in  her  hand,  sets  off  to  walk  to  Brent  Wood,  which  is 
deservedly  famous  in  the  neighborhood  for  the  beauty  and 
abundance  of  its  wild  flowers. 

Hetty's  dress  is  of  the  plainest  material  possible,  a pale 
blue  cambric,  without  either  pattern  or  stripes  upon  it, 
made  by  her  mother  and  herself,  but  fitting  her  exquisitely, 
showing  the  soft  curves  of  her  graceful,  girlish  figure  ; the 
round,  tapered  waist,  the  budding  bust,  and  the  strong, 
though  small,  shoe,  that  peeps  out  like  a mouse  from  under- 
neath the  skirt. 

Her  hat  is  of  the  same  material  as  her  gown,  simple  and 
inexpensive  to  the  last  degree,  but  it  suits  her  well ; it 
makes  her  dark,  heavily-fringed  eyes  look  bluer  than  usual, 
it  offers  a bright  contrast  to  the  golden  gleam  in  her  bronze- 
hued  hair,  and  it  does  what  it  is  intended  to  do,  it  com- 
pletely shields  the  sun  from  her  lovely  face. 

To-day,  Hetty  is  particularly  light-hearted  ; she  knows 
not  why,  but  she  feels  so  merry  she  could  dance  and  sing  in 
the  very  exuberance  of  youthful  spirits,  and  she  trips  along 
by  the  riverside,  too  intent  upon  watching  the  fishes  leap 
after  venturesome  flies  to  observe  that  Lord  Claude  Iron- 
gate  has  seen  her,  and  is  following  at  a distance. 

Along  by  the  side  of  the  river,  across  a field,  through  a 


20 


FOILED  BY  LOV ft. 


small  copse  of  fir-trees  ; then  she  opens  a tall,  wooden  gate, 
and  passes  into  the  Brent  Wood. 

The  sun  is  high  in  the  heavens,  and  Hetty  is  a little  tired 
with  her  walk;  but  here  is  shade  and  shelter  from  his 
burning  rays,  and,  after  pausing  a minute  or  two  to  rest 
against  a tree,  she  begins  to  look  about  her  for  the  flowers 
and  ferns  which  she  came  to  gather. 

It  is  always  a misfortune  to  a girl  when  she  has  not  a 
sister  or  a congenial  friend  to  accompany  her  in  her  walks, 
to  share  her  joys  and  her  sorrows,  and  Hetty  has  never  had 
a companion  save  Chris  and  her  mother,  the  latter  havipg 
sternly  forbidden  her  to  make  friends  with  any  of  the  girls 
with  whom  it  has  been  her  lot  to  come  in  contact. 

Sometimes  the  girl  is  very  lonely  when  thus  thrown  on 
her  own  resources ; but  to-day  this  feeling  does  not  oppress 
her,  and  she  is  so  busy  picking  the  lovely  flowers  which 
grow  at  her  feet  that  she  forgets  everything  else,  until  a 
hare  springs  from  a hole  at  the  root  of  a tree  close  to  her, 
and  she  starts  back  with  a sudden  cry  of  alarm. 

The  next  moment  she  would  laugh  at  her  own  childish 
terror,  if  a man’s  voice,  but  a few  yards  distant,  did  not  ask, 
with  unnecessary  solicitude  : 

“What  is  the  matter  ? Don’t  be  alarmed;  the  hare  is 
more  frightened  than  you  are  ! ” 

This  assertion  is  not  strictly  true,  for  though  Hetty  was 
only  startled  by  the  hare,  she  is  thoroughly  frightened  by 
the  presence  of  her  father’s  master,  though  she  scarcely 
knows  why  she  should  be  so. 

Womanly  instinct  impels  her  to  hide  this  fear,  and  with 
an  innate  dignity,  inherited  from  her  mother,  she  says  : 

“Thank  you,  my  lord.  I was  more  surprised  than 
alarmed.” 

Then,  with  a humble  bow,  she  turns  away,  and  continues 
her  occupation  of  hunting  for  wild  flowers. 

Her  pale  blue  gown  is  a lovely  bit  of  color  against  the 
green  and  yellow  moss,  the  white  and  red  and  purple  flowers. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


21 


and  the  dark  foliage  of  the  lofty  trees ; and  Lord  Claude 
Irongate,  who  is  an  artist  in  his  way,  and  who,  if  he  were 
not  a wealthy  man,  could  probably  earn  a living  by  his 
brush,  wishes  that  he  had  his  painting-box  at  hand,  so  that 
he  might  transfer  the  scene  to  canvas. 

Hetty  had  turned  from  him  as  though  she  expected  he 
would  go  on  his  way  and  pay  no  more  heed  to  her.  Nothing, 
however,  is  farther  from  his  intention.  He  takes  a few 
steps  to  the  right  so  that  he  can  get  a glimpse  of  her  lovely 
face,  and  then  all  thought  of  regarding  her  only  as  a beauti- 
ful picture  vanishes  from  his  mind. 

Her  face  fires  his  heart  with  passion,  but  it  likewise  sets 
him  thinking.  Where  did  she  get  such  glorious  eyes,  such 
an  exquisitely-formed  face,,  such  glittering,  gold-tipped  hair, 
and  where  has  he  seen  another  face  so  like  hers  that  from 
the  very  first  moment  of  their  meeting  her  countenance 
seemed  familiar  to  his  gaze  ? 

He  cannot  tell.  Her  face  seems  to  carry  his  mind  back 
to  some  old  picture  gallery,  where  beauties  of  a by-gone  cen- 
tury, attired  in  marvelous  costumes,  look  down  with 
unchanging  smiles  upon  the  wondering  crowds  that  pass  by 
them.  But  he  cannot  fix  the  time  or  place  when  those  eyes 
on  canvas  first  met  his  own,  and,  with  the  living  girl  before 
him,  he  soon  ceases  to  wonder  where  he  first  saw  her  pro- 
totype. 

As  for  Hetty,  without  seeming  to  hurry  from  him,  she 
has  picked  a flower  here  and  there,  and  has  gone  on  some 
little  distance  in  the  direction  of  one  of  the  lodge  gates, 
which  she  knows  is  not  far  off. 

If  she  can  only  reach  the  lodge,  she  feels  she  will  be  safe, 
and,  even  as  she  is  hurrying  onward,  she  chides  herself  for 
her  nervous  anxiety  to  get  out  of  sight  of  Lord  Claude. 

He  has  never  offered  her  an  insult ; he  has,  it  is  true, 
treated  her  with  an  amount  of  familiarity  that  has  made 
the  proud  blood  rush  to  her  temples,  and  has  excited  the 
indignation  of  her  mother ; but  she  is  dimly  conscious  that 


22 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


other  people  — Molly  Stiles,,  for  instance  — would  not  feel 
at  all  insulted  if  a gentleman  in  Lord  Claude's  position 
spoke  to  her  in  the  same  manner ; and  Hetty  tries  to  impress 
upon  her  own  mind  that  she  herself  stands  no  higher  in 
Lord  Claude's  eyes  than  does  Molly,  her  mother's  servant. 

Still,  there  are  instincts  in  our  natures  which  will  not  be 
stifled — a man  born  to  greatness  must  have  <great  thoughts 
in  his  heart  and  brain,  be  his  surroundings  ever  so  humble  — 
and  what  is  true  of  man  is  in  a far  higher  degree  true  of 
woman. 

It  was  the  instinct  that,  however  charming  Lord  Claude 
Irongate  might  be  to  her  when  he  chose,  he  was  practically 
her  enemy,  that  made  Hetty  Hamblin  try  to  reach  the 
keeper's  lodge  before  he  can  come  near  to  her. 

But  her  efforts  are  in  vain  — she  had  miscalculated  the 
distance  — if  she  had  abandoned  her  flowers  and  taken  to 
her  heels,  she  would  still  not  have  reached  the  lodge  in  time ; 
and  the  sound  of  falling  water  close  at  hand  convinces  her 
of  the  fact,  even  while  it  attracts  her  toward  it. 

She  remembers  that  a branch  of  the  sluggish  river  is  here 
utilized  to  supply  water  to  the  castle,  which  stands  in  the 
park  yonder,  and  that  it  falls  over  a weir  some  ten  feet  high, 
making  the  peculiar  sound  which  now  falls  upon  her  ear. 

The  position  of  the  weir  convinces  her  of  her  inability 
to  reach  the  lodge  before  his  lordship  joins  her,  even  if  he 
does  not  suddenly  hurry  onward,  and,  even  as  the  thought 
flashes  through  her  mind,  she  hears  the  footsteps  come 
nearer,  and,  scarcely  thinking  of  what  she  does,  she  quickens 
her  own  pace  into  a run. 

But  her  steps  are  now  turned  toward  the  river,  instead  of 
in  the  direction  of  the  game-keeper's  lodge,  and  she  just 
comes  in  sight  of  the  stream  as  Lord  Claude,  with  a laugh 
on  his  lips  and  a dangerous  light  in  his  eyes,  reaches  her 
side. 

“ So  you  thought  to  run  away  from  me,  did  you  ? ” he 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


23 


asks,  flinging  his  arm  round  her  waist.  “ Silly  girl,  as 
though  I were  going  to  let  you  off  like  this  without  a kiss.” 

As  he  speaks  he  bends  his  mustached  lips  to  kiss  her  ; 
but  Hetty,  during  the  past  five  minutes,  has  grown  wild 
with  terror. 

A kiss  may  be  a very  simple  thing  when  willingly  given, 
and  gladly  or  coyly  received  ; but  when  it  is  to  be  forced 
upon  you,  when  your  agonized  mind  conjures  up  a host  of 
real  or  imaginary  terrors,  then  a kiss  is  a very  dreadful 
thing  — something  we  would  shrink  from,  even  at  the  risk 
of  our  lives. 

The  clasp  of  Lord  Claude’s  arm  round  her  waist  has  taken 
from  Hetty  her  last  atom  of  self-possession. 

With  all  her  strength  she  tries  to  tear  herself  from  the 
arm  that  holds  her  ; the  poor  flowers  which  she  has  picked 
fall  to  the  ground  and  are  trampled  upon  in  her  struggle  ; 
but  his  clasp  is  like  a band  of  steel  around  her,  and,  though 
she  cannot  get  away,  she  fights  and  hides  her  face,  and 
twists  herself  so  that  he  may  kiss  her  hat,  or  the  back  of 
her  head,  but  cannot  touch  her  face. 

Lord  Claude  is  baffled  and  irritated. 

This  girl’s  dislike  to  him  is  too  intense  to  be  simulated, 
and  he  has  been  so  much  accustomed  to  an  easy  victory 
that  it  fairly  surprises  him. 

It  rouses  a demon  in  his  breast. 

He  will  not  be  mastered  by  a chit  of  a girl  — the  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  his  own  servants,  too  ; no,  if  he  does  her  some 
mortal  injury,  he  is  determined  to  make  her  obedient  and 
submissive  to  his  will. 

But  even  as  this  resolve  frames  itself  in  his  excited  mind, 
his  foot  catches  in  the  fibrous  root  of  an  old  tree,  and  in  his 
fall  his  arms  involuntarily  open  wide,  and  Hetty  is  free. 

A girl  less  determined  than  she  to  escape  from  her  captor 
at  any  price  would  have  stood  still  and  hesitated,  and 
looked  at  her  fallen  foe ; but  Hetty  does  nothing  of  the 
kind. 


24 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


There  is  but  one  way  of  escape  for  her,  and  that  is  by  the 
river. 

But  how  to  cross  it  ? The  stream  is  .far  too  deep  to  be 
waded  ; she  cannot  swim  ; and,  determined  as  she  is  to  get 
away  from  Lord  Claude,  she  still  does  not  meditate  suicide. 

There  is  the  weir,  over  which  the  water  flows  in  a strong 
stream,  churning  itself  into  white  foam  before  it  reaches 
the  river  below,  and  on  the  opposite  bank  to  that  on  which 
she  stands  is  the  pumping-house,  where  surely  one  man  at 
least  is  at  work,  who  would  if  need  be  give  her  protection. 

Such  is  the  thought  that  flashes  through  her  mind  as 
Lord  Claude  relaxes  his  hold  of  her  and  falls  to  the 
ground. 

He  is  on  his  feet  again  in  a moment,  but  she  is  quicker 
than  he ; like  a flash  of  light  she  darts  to  the  end  of  the 
weir,  and  he,  startled  by  her  evident  intention,  comes  as 
swiftly  after  her. 

If  Hetty  could  pause  to  think,  the  step  she  now  takes 
would  be  fatal,  for  over  the  top  of  the  weir  the  river  is 
flowing  fast,  and  the  pool  beneath  into  which  it  falls  is  so 
deep  that  if  she  were  once  carried  down  with  the  foaming 
water  she  would  probably  never  rise  to  the  surface  again. 

But  her  heart  and  brain  are  on  fire  with  terror  — she  is 
reckless  of  any  other  danger  save  that  of  having  to  submit 
to  this  man’s  loathsome  caresses.  A cry  of  horror  escapes 
from  Lord  Claude’s  lips  as  Hetty,  fearlessly  and  without 
pausing  to  estimate  the  danger,  runs  swiftly  and  lightly 
across  the  top  of  the  weir  to  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
stream. 

Terror  gives  speed  to  her  feet,  and  so  rapid  are  her  move- 
ments that  the  flowing  river  has  not  time  to  resist  her  pas- 
sage before  she  has  safely  crossed  the  perilous  current. 

It  is  all  the  work  of  a few  seconds  — the  fight  for  a kiss, 
the  struggle.  Lord  Claude’s  fall,  and  the  crossing  of  the 
river  by  the  terrified  girl. 

Put  one  man  at  any  rate  had  witnessed  the  scene,  and  he 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


25 


rushes  out  of  the  house  in  which  the  pumping-machine  is 
kept,  to  meet  the  girl  who  has  so  recklessly  hazarded 
her  life. 

Hetty,  recognizing  the  face  of  the  gentleman  upon  whom 
Lady  Daphne  Irongate  smiles  so  sweetly,  cries  with  im- 
ploring gesture : 

“Save  me  ! Save  me  ! ” and  falls  senseless  upon  his  breast. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Lord  Claude  Irongate  follows  Hetty  swiftly  to  the 
bank  of  the  river. 

As  he  stretches  out  his  hand  he  can  almost  touch  her,  but 
she  speeds  like  the  wind,  and  his  terror  is  that  she  means  to 
fling  herself  into  the  deep  river  to  escape  his  unwelcome 
caress. 

But  when  she  reaches  the  top  of  the  weir  and  passes  over, 
as  already  described,  he  holds  his  breath  with  fear  and 
amazement,  not  daring  to  follow  her,  and  when  she  falls 
into  the  arms  of  Gilbert  Tavenner,  an  imprecation,  not  loud, 
but  deep,  issues  from  his  lips,  and  he  mutters,  fiercely  : 

“ That  little  fool  will  make  a scandal  all  over  the  country 
for  the  sake  of  a kiss.  I wish  to  heaven  I had  never  seen 
her  ! ” 

The  hoarse  murmur  of  the  water,  falling  over  the  weir, 
drowns  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  he  has  to  raise  it  to  a 
shout  when  he  says  : 

“ Lay  her  on  the  grass,  Tavenner,  and  throw  some  water 
on  her  face  ; there’s  nothing  the  matter  with  her,  and  she’ll 
come  round  in  a minute  or  two.” 

The  gentleman  thus  addressed  makes  no  answer,  but  he 
removes  the  large  blue  hat  from  the  head  of  the  insensible 
girl  and  looks  at  her  with  mingled  astonishment  and  admi- 
ration ; for,  accustomed  as  he  is  to  the  society  of  beautiful 
women,  his  eyes  have  never  rested  upon  a sweeter  or  a love- 
lier countenance. 


26 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


He  has  to  hold  her  tightly*  or  she  would  fall ; and  in  a 
second  or  two  he  finds  it  best  to  follow  Lord  Claude's  sug- 
gestion* and  allow  her  to  sink  gently  upon  the  grass. 

Her  face  is  very  pale*  her  limbs  are  heavy  and  motionless* 
but  she  looks*  in  her  delicate  blue  gown*  like  some  enchanted 
princess*  who  had  fallen  into  a trance ; and  the  gurgling 
rush  of  the  falling  water*  the  leaf-laden  trees*  the  quaint 
red  brick  of  the  pumping-house*  the  undulating  well- wooded 
park*  and  the  soft  summer  air*  are  all  so  many  natural 
accessories  to  the  scene. 

Lord  Claude*  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  weir*  frets  and 
fumes*  but  cannot  pass  over. 

He  knows  the  danger  of  such  an  attempt  far  better  than 
Hetty. 

She*  in  her  terror*  and  her  lightness  and  sureness  of  foot* 
has  cleared  the  space  in  safety;  but  for  him  to  attempt  it 
would  be  madness  and  certain  destruction*  for  while  he  was 
trying  to  make  sure  of  his  foothold  the  impatient  river 
would  sweep  him  away*  and  once  in  the  pool  below  his 
chances  of  escape  would  be  almost  nil. 

So  here  he  stands*  looking  at  Hetty*  longing  to  take  steps 
for  her  recovery*  longing*  also*  to  kiss  her  fair  face  and  to 
express  his  penitence*  even  while  he  takes  all  and  more  than 
he  has  yet  dared  to  ask. 

But  the  river  rolls  between  them*  that  river  like  a bar  of 
Fate*  and  the  admiration  which  he  felt  for  the  girl*  and 
which  has  only  an  hour  ago  ripened  into  passionate  love*  is 
now  fed  by  jealousy*  and  grows  into  immense  stature*  like 
the  genie  of  old  when  he  emerged  in  vapor  from  the  tiny 
casket*  till  he  assumed  the  proportions  of  a giant. 

Minutes*  rather  than  seconds*  seem  to  elapse  before  Tav- 
enner  again  emerges  from  the  pumping-house*  without  hav- 
ing found  anything  for  his  purpose. 

There  are  no  workmen  here*  a circumstance  for  which 
Lord  Claude  is  intensely  thankful*  for  workmen  would  carry 
the  story  abroad*  and  it  is  just  possible  that  he  may  be  able 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  27 

to  induce  both  Hetty  and  Tavenner  to  preserve  a discreet 
silence. 

Though  the  latter  has  not  found  a glass  or  a bowl,  he  is 
not  without  resources,  and  he  takes  his  low-crowned  hat  to 
the  river's  brink,  stoops,  and  half  fills  it,  then  brings  it 
back  and  sprinkles  the  cold  fluid  upon  Hetty's  white  face. 

The  effect  is  soon  perceptible.  The  girl  gasps,  sobs,  then 
opens  her  star-like  eyes,  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  gazes  at  her 
like  one  spell-bound. 

Where  did  she  get  such  eyes — clear  and  beautiful,  and 
liquid  in  their  deep,  pure,  blue  — eyes  shaded  with  such 
long,  black  silken  lashes  that  their  very  color  is  a surprise 
to  him? 

Tavenner  looks  at  the  reviving  girl  long  and  earnestly, 
then  he  glances  across  the  river  at  Lord  Claude  Irongate, 
whom  he  knows  full  well;  and  he  turns  his  gaze  back  upon 
Hetty,  with  a pitiful  glance,  as  a Roman  might  have  looked 
upon  Virginia  when  Appius  Claudius  claimed  her  as  his 
slave. 

For  Lord  Claude  Irongate  had  shouted  out  impatiently: 
“ Don't  be  afraid,  man;  dash  the  water  in  her  face!  She 
is  only  my  trainer's  daughter.” 

The  knowledge  of  the  fair  girl's  humble  position  only 
calls  forth  a greater  amount  of  chivalrous  feeling  on  the 
part  of  Gilbert  Tavenner,  and  he  says  gently: 

“Don't  be  alarmed,  my  good  girl,  there  is  nothing  to 
frighten  you.  I will  see  you  safely  home — there,  you  are 
better  now;  I suppose  it  was  the  heat  of  the  day  that  made 
you  faint.” 

“ You  are  very  good  to  me,”  she  replies,  clasping  her  hands 
and  looking  up  to  him  with  such  genuine  gratitude  and 
admiration  that  he  feels  himself  blush. 

“I  have  done  nothing,”  he  returns,  evasively,  “except 
throw  some  water  on  your  dress,  which  I am  afraid  will  not 
improve  its  appearance.” 


28 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ You  have  saved  me  from  Lord  Claude/’  she  says,  trem- 
ulously; “he — he  wanted  to  kiss  me.” 

She  says  this  in  such  an  abashed  and  troubled  tone,  and 
droops  her  head  with  so  much  genuine  confusion,  that  he 
restrains  his  inclination  to  laugh,  and  looking  at  her  troubled 
face,  and  fired  with  admiration  by  her  beauty,  he  exclaims 
earnestly: 

“ He  had  no  right  to  alarm  you,  and  you  must  have  been 
greatly  frightened  to  dare  to  cross  the  weir  as  you  did.  But 
you  feel  better  now,  don’t  you  ? ” 

“Oh,  yes,  thank  you!  I am  quite  well,”  she  replies,  rising 
to  her  feet. 

Then,  as  she  sees  Lord  Claude  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  stream,  she  involuntarily  shrinks  to  the  side  of  her  new 
acquaintance  as  she  says  appealingly: 

“You  won’t  let  him  touch  me,  will  you?” 

“Certainly  not,”  is  the  answer.  “I  will  see  you  safely  to 
your  own  door,  if  you  will  allow  me.” 

“There  is  no  need  for  that,  thank  you,”  she  renlies,  ner- 
vously, “only  keep  him  away  from  me,  and  I shall  be  quite 
safe.  It  will  be  better,  too,  for  you  not  to  be  seen  with  me, 
for  my  mother  would  ask  how  you  came  to  know  me,  and 
then  I should  have  to  tell  her.” 

“But  she  could  not  be  angry  with  you!”  expostulates 
the  young  man,  with  unnecessary  solicitude. 

“No,  perhaps  not,”  she  replies,  nervously;  “but  my 
father  is  in  Lord  Claude’s  service,  and  it  will  be  a sad  thing 
for  us  if  he  sends  us  away  because  of  this.” 

“ He  had  no  business  to  follow  you  and  frighten  you  ! ” 
exclaims  Tavenner,  hotly. 

“No,  if  he  had  been  a gentleman  at  heart,  he  would  not 
have  done  it,  would  he  ? ” she  asks,  thoughtfully. 

“No!”  he  replies,  slowly.  But  at  the  same  time,  he 
wonders  what  man,  save  himself,  would  resist  the  witchery 
of  those  deep  blue  eyes,  and  the  inviting  tenderness  of  those 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  29 

soft,  dewy  lips,  which  seem  to  be  lifted  on  purpose  to  tempt 
him  to  kiss  them. 

Needless  to  say,  nothing  could  be  farther  from  Hetty's 
mind  than  such  a thought.  She  feels  intuitively  that  her 
present  companion  is  a man  of  honor,  that  she  is  safe  in  his 
company,  and  she  is  more  conscious  than  she  has  ever 
previously  been  that  he  has  a singularly  attractive  and 
winning  face. 

He  is  very  tall,  fully  six  feet  in  height.  His  head  is 
covered  with  thick,  waving,  dark-brown  hair,  worn  rather 
long,  and  forming  a frame  for  his  handsome  countenance, 
which  is  something  Bvronic  in  type. 

Its  charm  is  felt  by  Hetty,  though  she  cannot  define  her 
own  feelings. 

There  is  something  in  the  fine  eyes,  in  the  handsome  nose 
and  kindly  mouth,  the  latter  half  hidden  by  a youthful 
mustache,  that  gives  her  confidence  in  their  owner  ; and 
though  she  does  not  forget  that  he  is  a gentleman,  and  that 
she  is  the  daughter  of  a man  of  lowly  condition,  his  manner 
is  so  tender  and  respectful  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
her  to  be  reserved  or  shy. 

He  has  picked  up  her  hat  and  given  it  to  her,  and  has 
looked  a great  deal  of  the  admiration  and  sympathy  he  does 
not  venture  to  express  ; and  then  they  turn  to  leave  the 
weir,  which  makes  so  much  noise  as  to  partially  drown  their 
voices. 

Lord  Claude  Irongate  has  shouted  across  once  or  twice, 
but  Hetty  has  not  answered  him,  has  not  even  looked  his 
way,  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  has  curtly  responded: 

“ I can't  talk  to  you  here.  ” 

Then  he  leads  Hetty  into  the  park,  and  Lord  Claude 
knows  that  he  is  showing  her  the  nearest  way  back  to  Stan- 

moor. 

If  he  could  only  cross  the  river  and  join  them  he  would 
do  so,  but  this  is  impossible,  unless  he  tekes  the  same  peril- 


30 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


ous  way  as  that  pursued  by  Hetty,  and  the  nearest  foot- 
bridge is  a good  mile  distant. 

His  mortification  is  intense,  for  Hetty  has  escaped  him. 
Tavenner  has  witnessed  his  defeat,  and  he  is,  above  all 
things,  anxious  to  speak  to  both  of  them  before  they  can 
breathe  to  any  other  person  a word  of  what  has  happened. 

He  believes  he  can  easily  frighten  Hetty  into  silence, 
because  the  situations  held  by  her  father  and  her  brother 
are  at  stake  ; but  then  he  must  be  able  to  speak  bo  her  first 
and  to  establish  some  kind  of  an  understanding  with  her. 

But  Tavenner  is  different. 

If  Tavenner  goes  and  repeats  this  story,  tells  it  to  a few 
men  who  frequent  the  clubs  to  which  they  both  belong,  and 
who  will  not  fail  to  embellish  it  with  sundry  additions,  it 
will  be  a standing  joke  agaiust  him  for  some  months  and 
may  also  lead  to  other  unpleasant  consequences. 

For  there  are  one  or  two  secrets  in  Lord  Claude's  life 
which  he  would  not  like  to  be  made  known  to  the  world, 
and  when  this  is  the  case  a man  is  always  anxious  to  escape 
notoriety. 

Experience  has  shown  him  that  the  most  carefully- 
guarded  skeleton  will  sometimes  walk  out  of  its  closet, 
because  the  owner  thereof  has  been  careless  with  the  key  ; 
and,  in  this  case,  an  amusing  story  in  which,  he  had  been 
baffled  by  a pretty  girl  might  be  as  sure  a key  to  unlock  the 
prison  house  in  which  his  secrets  are  kept  as  was  the  clue  of 
silk  to  enter  the  bower  of  Fair  Rosamond. 

So,  while  he  curses  his  own  folly  and  anathematizes  the 
perversity  of  girls  in  general,  and  of  Hetty  in  particular,  lie 
begins  to  walk  at  a rapid  pace  with  a view  of  intercepting 
the  couple  before  they  can  reach  Stanmoor. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  river  he  could  easily  overtake  them, 
for  he  can  see  them  strolling  at  a very  leisurely  pace  through 
the  park,  but  presently  thertrees  hide  them  from  his  sight ; 
then  he  has  himself  to  go  through  a portion  of  a wood,  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 31 

when  he  reaches  the  foot-bridge  by  which  he  can  cross  the 
river,  the  couple  are  evidently  far  ahead  of  him. 

The  sun  is  shining  fiercely  overhead.  Walking  rapidly 
over  rough  ground  is  fatiguing  ; it  is  now  almost  impossible 
to  overtake  the  couple,  who  are  far  in  advance  of  him,  and 
even  if  he  were  to  do  so  what  can  he  say  to  either  of  them 
when  they  are  together  ? 

He  would  not  like  Tavenner  to  hear  him  caution  Hetty 
to  be  silent,  and  he  would  not  like  the  girl  to  be  present 
when  he  asked  the  former  not  to  say  anything  about  the 
little  scene  in  which  he  had  taken  a part. 

A moment's  reflection  convinces  him  that  Hetty  will  * 
probably  be  reticent  for  her  own  sake,  and  that,  in  any  case, 
Gilbert  Tavenner  is  the  one  whose  silence  it  is  most  to  his 
interest  to  insure. 

So  he  walks  along  leisurely,  keeping  a sharp  look-out  in 
every  direction,  and  presently  he  perceives  the  man  whom 
he  seeks  coming  slowly  and  thoughtfully  toward  him. 

“ So  the  little  prude  would  not  let  him  go  all  the  way 
home  with  her  ! ” he  mutters,  savagely.  “ She  is  a bewitch- 
ing little  jade.  If  it  were  not  for  her  people  and  some  half- 
a-dozen  obstacles  in  the  way,  she  might  almost  tempt  me  to 
marry  her.” 

At  this  idea  he  laughs  mockingly,  and  an  on-looker,  who 
could  overhear  him,  might  be  inclined  to  thing  that  Lord 
Claude  Irongate  had  already  committed  a similar  act  of 
folly. 

He  advances  slowly,  until  he  and  Tavenner  come  face  to 
face,  and,  even  as  their  eyes  meet.  Lord  Claude  is  conscious 
that  his  friend  looks  coldly  upon  him. 

But  it  suits  him  to  ignore  this,  and  he  laughs  awkwardly 
as  he  says  : 

“I  am  glad  there  was  nobody  by  but  you,  old  man,  when 
that  girl  made  such  a little  fool  of  herself.  I was  awfully 
afraid,  at  one  moment,  that  she  was  going  to  thyow  herseb! 
into  the  river*” 


32 


FOILED  BY  LOVE 


“If  she  had  done  so,  it  is  you  who  would  have  been 
responsible  for  her  death,”  returns  Tavenner,  severely. 

“ Nonsense,  man  ! How  could  I help  it  ! ” exclaims 
Lord  Claude,  indignantly.  “I  only  tried  to  kiss  her.  We 
shall  come  to  a pretty  pass  if  a man  is  to  be  accused  of 
murder  because  he  tries  to  steal  a kiss  ! ” 

Gilbert  Tavenner  shrugs  his  shoulders,  but  makes  no 
other  response. 

His  sympathies  are  evidently  with  Hetty,  not  with  her 
titled  tormentor,  and  Lord  Claude  feels  that  this  is  so  and 
is  annoyed  in  consequence.  But  he  cannot  resent  this.  He 
has  a favor  to  ask,  and  he  says  abruptly  : 

“Well,  happily,  there  is  no  harm  done,  but  you  will 
oblige  me  if  you  don’t  mention  the  matter  to  anybody.  No 
doubt,  it  was  foolish  on  my  part,  but  my  aunt  and  sister 
will  give  me  no  peace  till  I dismiss  her  father  and  brother 
from  my  service  if  they  think  I admire  the  girl  — and  that 
would  be  a pity,  for  they  are  decent  fellows  in  their  way.  ” 

“Oh,  I shall  not  mention  the  matter  to  anybody,”  replies 
Tavenner,  coldly. 

“Then  that  is  all  right,”  is  the  careless  response,  “and  I 
must  go  home.  You  are  coming  over  this  evening,  aren’t 
you  ? ” 

“I  don’t  know,”  is  the  answer. 

“Daphne  expects  you,”  says  Lord  Claude,  in  a tone 
which  would  convey  to  a stranger  the  impression  that  Lady 
Daphne  Irongate  had  a right  to  expect  him. 

“Yes,  perhaps  I shall  come,”  is  the  reply. 

Then  the  two  men  nod  to  each  other  and  part,  neither  of 
them  sorry  to  be  alone. 

“If  Tavenner  were  not  such  a straight-laced  puppy,” 
muses  Lord  Claude,  “and  not  engaged  to  Daphne,  I should 
say  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Hetty.  She’s  lovely  enough 
to  tempt  an  anchorite  to  forget  his  vows  ; and  that  reminds 
that  I shall  have  to  go  to  town  in  a day  or  two.  What 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


33 


a nuisance  women  are,  and  what  an  idiot  I have  been  ! I 
deserve  to  be  whipped  for  my  folly  ! ” 

He  bites  the  ends  of  his  long,  drooping  mustache  as  he 
thus  mutters,  and  his  handsome  face  wears  a decided  scowl ; 
and  an  unlucky  dog  that  comes  out  to  greet  him  retires 
precipitately  with  a howl,  while  Lady  Daphne  and  her  aunt, 
who  happen  to  see  him  approaching  the  house,  remark, 
calmly  : 

“ Claude  is  in  a bad  temper  ; something  has  occurred  to 

put  him  out.” 

Fortunately,  for  their  own  comfort.  Lord  Claude,  on 
entering  Colnehurst,  as  the  mansion  is  called,  proceeds  to 
the  little  room  which  he  calls  his  study,  and  there  he  finds 
something  which  fully  occupies  his  attention. 

There  is  a large  packet  upon  the  table,  sent  on  from  his 
club  in  London,  and,  upon  opening  it,  several  letters  fall 
out. 

He  takes  them  all  up  carelessly  until  he  comes  to  one 
thicker  than  the  rest,  and  this  he  opens  with  feverish  irrita- 
tion, as  though  he  were  anticipating  evil. 

This  envelope  contains  another  letter  inside  it,  and  its 
contents  are  such  as  to  drive  the  warm  blood  from  his  cheek 
and  to  make  him  look  pale  and  haggard. 

Only  for  a little  while,  however,  does  he  yield  to  the  emo- 
tion it  causes  him.  Presently  he  rouses  himself,  gathers 
up  his  papers  carefully,  and  goes  to  his  own  dressing- 
room. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  he  is  on  his  way  to  town.  Busi- 
ness of  importance  calls  him  there,  and  as  he  passes  within 
sight  of  Stanmoor  on  his  way  to  the  station,  an  unpleasant 
smile  comes  over  his  face,  as  he  mutters  to  himself : “ Per- 
haps when  I return  I shall  be  free ! ” 


34 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

We  must  go  back  to  a date  three  months  prior  toW  ‘ N» 
morning  upon  which  Lord  Claude  Irongate  called  at  Fig  ; 
street,  Chelsea,  to  engage  Joe  Hamblin  as  his  trainer. 

It  is  a day  late  in  October.  In  the  country  the  woods  are 
aglow  with  the  rich  tints  that  the  leaves  put  on  before  they 
fall  to  the  ground  and  are  blown  hither  and  thither  by  the 
ruthless  wind. 

But  you  would  scarcely  know  whether  it  was  spring  or 
autumn  if  you  stood  in  Great  Russell  street*  Bloomsbury, 
for  the  grass  in  front  of  the  British  Museum  is  as  green  and 

fresh  as  though  it  were  April. 

The  sun  is  shining  this  morning,  and  m one  of  the 
sculpture  galleries  in  the  museum  a considerable  number  of 
girls  and  young  men  are  at  their  easels  drawing. 

Silence  reigns  in  the  place,  save  where  some  novice  lifts 
his  or  her  voice  above  the  low  tone  in  which  conversation  is 
ordinarily  carried  on. 

There  are  girls  here  who  are  beautiful,  others  who  are 
decidedly  plain ; there  are  men  who  come  to  study  and  to 
work  hard,  others  who  idle  away  their  time,  and  in  whom 
the  artistic  faculty  will  never  be  developed. 

That  girl  yonder,  who  is  drawing  the  statue  of  Apollo, 
seems  to  have  in  her  soul  the  fire  of  genius. 

Her  work  attracts  the  attention  of  all  who  pass  by  her, 
but  she  is  too  much  accustomed  to  observation  to  be  m the 

least  disturbed  by  it.  _ . , 

She  is  singular  enough  herself  to  make  people  turn  and 
look  twice  at  her  face.  Her  hair  is  dark,  wavy  and  abund- 
ant, and  she  despises  the  fashion  of  combing  it  up  into  a 
coil  at  the  top  of  her  head,  but  after  pinning  it  back  from 
her  face  she  allows  it  to  fall  below  her  waist  at  its  own 

sweet  will.  , . . . , c 

This  shortens  her  apparent  height,  which  is  under  live 
feet  but  it  suits  the  expression  of  her  face,  which  is 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


35 


slightly  peevish  in  its  type,  and  is  Mexican  rather  than 
English  in  its  character. 

Her  complexion  is  dark  and  rich  in  its  coloring,  the 
bright  red  of  her  cheeks  and  lips  contrasting  with  the  clear 
olive  tint  of  her  brow  and  neck.  Her  eyes  are  large,  flash- 
ing, yet  some  times  dreamy,  and  her  figure  is  partly  hidden 
by  her  loose  sleeves,  hanging  hair,  and  full  Italian-shaped 
bodice. 

Very  industriously  she  works,  until  a footstep  close 
behind  her  makes  her  heart  bound  with  sudden  emotion, 
while  a rich  color  dyes  her  cheeks,  and  her  hands  from  sheer 
excitement  become  damp  and  clammy. 

In  another  minute  a man  is  by  her  side,  man  with  a 
proud,  handsome  face,  with  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair,  and 
a long,  drooping  mustache,  just  the  kind  of  a man  to  take 
a young  girl's  fancy,  and  Eugenie  de  Mgestro  had  lost  her 
heart  to  the  fair  Englishman  at  their  first  meeting. 

An  easy  conquest  is  always  lightly  held,  and  Eugenie, 
who  has  been  cold  as  ioe  to  all  previous  admirers,  finds  her- 
self trembling  with  emotion,  like  an  aspen  leaf  shaken  by 
the  warm  breath  of  summer,  when  this  man,  who  is  the 
lord  of  her  destiny,  is  by,  and  looks  at  her  with  his  cold 
blue  eyes,  which  seem  to  read  the  hidden  thoughts  in  her 
soul. 

ISTo  need  to  ask  if  she  loves  him,  the  story  is  told  in  her 
eyes  whenever  they  meet,  but  their  meetings  are  not 
frequent,  for  Laurence  Trevor,  though  he  draws  far  better 
than  she,  and  will  sometimes  help  her  a little  with  her 
work,  as  a pretext  for  conversation,  does  not  really  come  to 
the  museum  to  draw  from  the  antique,  and  therefore  his 
visits  are  fitful  and  uncertain. 

Sometimes  he  will  come  regularly  two  or  three  days  in 
succession,  and  then  a week,  and  even  a fortnight  will 
elapse,  and  during  these  absences  Eugenie  will  hope  and 
wait,  until  her  heart  grows  sick  and  weary,  and  her  work, 


36 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


upon  which  she  ought  to  concentrate  her  wrhole  energies,  is 
either  neglected  or  badly  done. 

It  is  after  one  of  these  long  absences  that  Mr.  Trevor 
again  makes  his  appearance  by  her  side,  and  the  look  of 
passionate  love  with  which  she  greets  him  throws  him  off 
his  guard,  overcomes  a good  many  scruples,  and  he  says, 
with  tender  solicitude  : 

“What  is  the  matter  with  you,  little  woman  ? You  look 
pale  and  overworked;  you  want  a change  — pack  up  your 
things  and  come  for  a stroll  with  me.” 

Eugenie’s  face  becomes  swiftly  red,  then  as  deadly  pale. 

She  knows  that  she  ought  not  to  do  this  ; that  her  brother 
would  be  furious  with  her  if  the  knowledge  of  her  having 
gone  for  a walk  with  a stranger  came  to  his  ears  — for  a 
walk  with  a man  to  whom  she  has  never  been  properly  in- 
troduced. 

But  the  temptation  is  too  great  to  be  resisted.  Mrs. 
Grundy  may  frown,  her  brother  may  storm  and  threaten, 
but  it  is  impossible  to  talk  with  any  degree  of  freedom  in  a 
place  where  you  may  not  raise  your  voice  to  its  natural  key, 
and  where  a dozen  pairs  of  curious  eyes  are  again  and  again 
being  turned  toward  yourself  and  your  companion. 

So,  after  a momentary  hesitation,  she  blushingly  rises 
and  follows  his  suggestion  of  packing  up  her  things  ; then 
she  says  in  an  undertone  : 

“ I will  meet  you  under  the  portico,”  and  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  she  hastens  to  the  ladies’  room, 
where  she  has  left  her  hat  and  walking  apparel. 

It  seems  strange  to  her  to  be  walking  along  the  streets 
side  by  side  with  this  man,  of  whom  she  has  dreamed  so 
much,  and  of  whom  she  knows  so  little  ; and  there  is  that 
delightful  spice  of  impropriety,  without  anything  actually 
wrong,  in  the  proceeding,  that  has  also  its  charm  for  one 
who  has  never  previously  dared  to  infringe  the  rules  of  life 
laid  down  for  her  by  others. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 37 

Having  left  the  museum  behind  them,  the  couple  turn 
into  Gower  street,  then  Laurence  Trevor  asks  gaily  : 

“ Where  shall  we  go  ? The  river  is  too  cold,  or  we  could 
run  up  to  Eichmond ; but  what  do  you  say  to  the  Crystal 
Palace  ? ” 

“ I dare  not  go  far,”  she  replies,  timidly;  “I  must  be 
home  before  five  o'clock,  or  my  brother  will  question  me.” 

“ You  are  afraid  of  your  brother?”  he  asks,  quickly. 

“I  should  be  afraid  to  displease  him,”  she  answers.  “He 
stands  in  the  place  of  father  and  mother  to  me;  he  is  ten 
years  older  than  I.” 

“Well,  shall  we  go  and  have  some  luncheon  togther?  ” he 
asks,  persuasively. 

But  she  responds  quickly: 

“ No,  I could  not  do  that ; we  will  go  to  Eegent's  Park, 
it  is  not  far  distant,  and  there  we  can  walk  about  and  look 
at  the  swans.” 

“Very  well,”  he  replies,  hailing  a passing  hansom,  and 
before  Eugenie  can  protest  that  she  would  rather  walk  she 
finds  herself  helped  into  the  cab,  and  in  a few  minutes  she 
is  rattling  along  the  streets,  by  the  side  of  the  man  whose 
influence  over  her  is  so  great  as  to  sometimes  frighten  her. 

“If  my  brother  were  to  see  me,  I should  die!”  she  says 
nervously,  and  with  a little  shiver ; “ his  rage  is  terrible 
when  he  is  excited,  and  he  does  not  quite  approve  of  my 
going  to  the  museum  to  study.” 

“What  is  your  brother?”  asks  Trevor,  carelessly. 

“He  is  a merchant,”  she  replies. 

Then,  feeling  that  she  may  be  misunderstood,  she  adds  : 

“We  are  of  noble  birth,  and  my  father  owned  large 
estates  in  Mexico,  but  my  father  and  brother  took  part  in 
an  insurrection  against  the  existing  government.  My 
father  was  shot,  my  mother  died  with  grief,  Leon,  my 
brother,  escaped  and  brought  me  with  him  to  England,  and 
he  is  now  a partner  with  my  uncle,  my  mother's  brother, 
who  is  a Frenchman.  But  Leon  is  not  content  he  always 


38 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


dreams  of  going  back  to  our  own  country  and  regaining 
our  lost  position;  that  is  one  reason  why  he  would  never 
consent  to  my  marrying  an  Englishman.” 

“ That  does  not  look  very  promising  for  me,  does  it?” 
asks  Trevor,  tempted  to  talk  on  a subject  upon  which  he  is 
usually  very  cautious. 

She  makes  no  answer,  except  to  droop  her  eyelids  and 
blush  prettily. 

But  her  silence  and  her  presence  here  would  seem  to 
imply  that,  however  severe  and  arbitrary  her  brother  may 
be,  love  will  give  her  courage  enough  to  thwart  him. 

They  have  left  the  cab  by  this  time,  and  are  wandering 
slowly  near  the  ornamental  waters. 

Trevor  had  offered  her  his  arm,  and  she  clings  to  it  as 
she  lifts  her  bright,  richly-tinted  face  to  meet  his  gaze,  as 
she  responds  to  his  questions. 

In  her  way  she  is  certainly  beautiful ; her  big  black  eyes 
have  a liquid  luster,  made  more  intoxicating  by  the  love 
that  shines  through  them ; her  teeth  are  white  and  perfect, 
and  her  red  lips  have  an  inviting  charm  about  them  which 
he  does  not  try  to  resist,  for,  on  the  first  opportunity  when 
he  thinks  they  are  not  observed,  he  bends  down  and  kisses 
them. 

“You  ought  not  to  do  that,”  she  says,  blushing  deeply. 

But  she  does  not  withdraw  her  hand  from  his  arm,  and 
he  presses  it  closer  to  his  side  as  he  asks: 

“ Why  not  ? ” 

She  makes  no  answer,  and  she  does  not  protest  when, 
later  on,  he  kisses  her  again. 

Her  love  has  become  such  a part  of  her  being  that  she 
naturally  thinks  it  is  the  same  with  him,  and,  with  the 
innocence  and  directness  of  a child,  she  begins  to  talk  as 
though  marriage  must  be  the  natural  consequence  of  those 
imprudent  kisses. 

“I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  about  Leon,”  she 
remarks,  thoughtfully;  “he  once  told  me  he  would  never 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


39 


consent  to  my  marrying  an  Englishman,  but  perhaps,  when 
he  finds  I am  determined,  he  may  yield.  But  he  will  want 
to  know  all  about  your  family,  and  what  your  means  are; 
and,  of  course,  you  are  not  rich?” 

“ Artists  rarely  are  rich,”  he  replies,  evasively  and  with 
an  awkward  laugh ; “ but  I could  give  you  a pretty  cottage 
and,  perhaps,  a pony  carriage,  if  that  would  satisfy  your 
ambition.” 

“Oh,  yes!”  she  exclaims,  delightedly;  “I  should  desire 
nothing  more.  I don’t  wish  to  be  rich,  and  I am  quite 
willing  to  forget  that  I am  noble,  and  we  will  work 
together  at  our  art,  and  one  day,  perhaps,  we  shall  both  be 
famous.” 

“What  a child  you  are,”  he  says,  slightingly,  “to  sup- 
pose that  the  ladder  of  fame  will  ever  be  climbed  by  you 
or  by  me.” 

“I  don’t  see  why  it  should  not,”  she  retorts.  “Others, 
with  less  talent  than  you  or  I,  have  succeeded.” 

“Well,  we  will  hope  for  success,  if  you  desire  it,”  he 
replies,  with  an  indulgent  smile,  that  has  something  of  a 
slight  in  it.  “But  what  about  your  brother?  Don’t  you 
agree  with  me  that  it  will  be  best  to  ignore  that  gentleman 
altogether?  ” 

“Ignore  him?”  repeats  Eugenie,  not  understanding  the 
drift  of  his  remark. 

“Yes,”  he  replies;  “you  say  he  will  object  to  me  on  the 
score  of  my  nationality,  my  birth,  and  my  position ; now, 
if  we  were  to  meet  we  should  be  so  sure  to  quarrel,  because 
I am  as  proud  on  every  one  of  these  points  as  he  is.  This 
being  the  case,  I suggest  that  we  act  as  though  such  an 
individual  as  your  worthy  brother  did  not  exist.  By  the 
way,  how  old  are  you  ? ” 

“I  was  nineteen  last  birthday,”  she  replies,  nervously. 

The  course  proposed  to  her  is  full  of  terror,  but  she  is  too 
infatuated  with  the  man  who  suggests  it  to  be  able  to  resist 
his  influence,  and  she  makes  no  protest  when  he  says  : 


40 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ You  are  quite  old  enough  to  be  able  to  judge  for  your- 
self, and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  sooner  or  later  you  will 
have  to  choose  between  your  brother  and  me.” 

“Leon  has  been  very  kind  to  me,”  she  protests,  feebly; 
“ since  our  parents  died  he  has  fulfilled  the  vow  he  made  to 
our  mother,  that  he  would  guard  me  as  the  apple  of  his 
eye.  ” 

“And  I love  you  !”  he  says,  looking  with  lingering  glance 
into  her  eyes  ; becoming  more  warm  and  passionate  as  she 
seems  likely  to  escape  him. 

“Yes,”  she  murmurs,  “but  Leon  might  be  won  over,  and 
then  it  would  be  so  much  happier  for  all  of  us.” 

“I  don’t  think  it  probable,”  he  replies,  coldly;  “and  I 
don’t  feel  inclined  to  ask  him.  If  you  were  less  charming, 
dearest,  I should  think  it  folly  on  my  own  part  to  marry 
any  but  an  Englishwoman.” 

She  understands  his  meaning,  he  despises  her  race  and 
her  country ; but  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  she  has  met 
with  this  feeling  since  she  has  been  in  England,  and  there- 
fore she  resents  it  less  than  she  otherwise  might  do,  and 
says  meekly  : 

“ It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  and  perhaps  Leon  may  be  won 
over  in  time.” 

He  takes  no  notice  of  this,  but  he  says  tenderly  : 

“ I suppose  you  would  like  to  be  married  by  your  own 
church,  dear ; you  are  a Roman  Catholic,  are  you  not  ? ” 

“No,  your  church  shall  be  my  church,”  she  replies,  “and 
your  people  my  people.” 

Her  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  white  swans  gliding  so  grace- 
fully upon  the  water  as  she  says  this,  and  consequently  she 
does  not  observe  the  expression  of  vexation  that  comes  over 
her  companion’s  face,  neither  does  she  turn  to  look  at  him 
as  he  says  : 

“ I should  not  like  to  influence  you  in  such  a matter, 
my  dear ; it  will  be  all  the  same  to  me  wherever  we  are 
married.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


41 


“ You  will  not  influence  me  against  my  conscience/’  she 
replies.  “ I prefer  the  Church  of  England,  I have  been  to  it 
often  ; I think  I shall  one  day  become  an  Englishwoman/’ 
she  adds,  turning  to  him  with  one  of  her  brightest  smiles. 

But  the  smile  is  not  returned.  An  ugly  word  issues  from 
his  lips,  a frown  contracts  his  brow,  he  rises  hastily  and 
turns  half  round,  and  she  hears  him  mutter  : 

“ Confound  that  fellow  ! What  brings  him  here  to  spy 
upon  me?” 

The  words  naturally  make  her  look  in  the  direction  from 
whence  her  companion  turned  away,  and  she  perceives  a 
gentleman  walking  along  the  path  by  the  edge  of  the  water. 

He  is  young  and  tall,  darker  than  Trevor,  and  many  peo- 
ple would  think  more  handsome  ; he  seems  to  be  walking 
through  this  portion  of  the  park  as  though  that  were  the 
road  he  had  to  take  in  going  from  one  place  to  reach 
another,  and  he  does  not  seem  to  be  taking  any  notice  of 
the  lovers  seated  on  a couple  of  chairs  underneath  the  trees. 

A few  minutes  later  and  he  has  crossed  the  bridge  and 
is  out  of  sight,  and  Trevor  says  : 

“ It  is  rather  cold  here  ; you  don't  intend  to  return  to  the 
museum  to-day,  do  you  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; I think  I had  better,”  she  replies.  “My  brother 
sometimes  calls  for  me  on  his  way  back  from  the  city.” 

“Then  I will  take  you  to  the  gates,”  he  says,  absently; 
“and  I will  come  in  and  see  you  to-morrow  morning. 

She  acquiesces  silently. 

In  her  heart  it  seems  as  though  some  dark  shadow  had 
fallen  upon  her  happiness,  and,  child  as  she  is  in  experience 
and  in  worldly  wisdom,  she  feels  that  it  is  the  height  of 
imprudence  on  her  part  to  leave  the  protection  of  her 
brother's  home  to  share  the  lot  of  this  man,  about  whom 
she  knows  absolutely  nothing. 

But  she  is  infatuated ! She  is  in  love  ! And  love  courses 
through  her  veins  like  the  lava  streams  that  burst  from  the 
hearts  of  her  native  mountains. 


42 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  following  morning  Eugenie  de  Maestro  comes  to  the 
sculpture  gallery  in  the  British  Museum  as  usual. 

She  arranges  her  easel  and  begins  to  draw,  but  her  heart 
is  not  in  her  work. 

Those  students  who  know  her  observe  that  she  is  paler 
than  usual,  but  they  do  not  see  that  she  is  laboring  under 
the  influence  of  intense  excitement,  which  needs  all  her 
self-command  to  repress. 

She  does  not  repress  it,  but  her  hand  is  unsteady  this 
morning ; she  is  so  nervous  that  she  starts  at  every  footstep, 
and  she  looks  up  again  and  again,  showing  very  plainly  that 
she  is  expecting  somebody  who  is  tardy  in  coming. 

Slowly  the  minute-hand  moves  round  the  face  of  the 
clock  ; slowly  that  never-to-be-forgotten  morning  passes 
away,  and  still  Laurence  Trevor  does  not  come. 

So  fearful  is  she  of  missing  him  that,  although  she  has 
brought  a case  of  sandwiches  with  her  for  luncheon,  she 
will  not  go  to  the  'waiting-room  to  eat  them,  and  here  she 
remains  fasting,  while  her  head  aches  and  her  heart  sinks 
with  the  dread  that  her  lover  has  repented  of  what  he  said 
to  her  yesterday,  and  that  she  will  never  see  him  again. 

“He  said  he  would  come  to-day,”  are  the  words  she  keeps 
on  repeating  to  herself.  “ He  spoke  as  though  to-day  he 
would  make  all  arrangements  for  our  marriage,  and  now  he 
does  not  come,  does  not  send,  and  I don’t  know  where  to 
find  him.” 

The  imprudence  of  marrying  a man  about  whom  she 
knows  nothing  does  not  strike  this  unsophisticated,  emotional 
girl ; she  only  knows  that  she  loves  him  — she  believes  that 
he  loves  her  — and,  in  her  present  frame  of  mind,  provided 
she  has  him  with  her,  that  is  all  for  which  she  cares. 

But  he  does  not  come ; and  as  the  clock  strikes  four  her 
brother,  Leon  de  Maestro,  makes  his  appearance,  remarking 
that  he  is  here  to  take  her  home. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


43 


She  packs  up  her  things  meekly.  Even  if  she  were  alone 
she  feels  it  would  be  useless  to  wait  longer,  for  Laurence 
has  always  made  his  visits  in  the  morning,  and  she  told  him 
that  her  brother  frequently  fetched  her  in  the  afternoon. 

Her  head  seems  light,  while  there  is  a painful  oppression 
over  her  brows,  and  her  heart  ached  as  it  never  ached  before. 
But  she  utters  no  word  of  complaint ; mechanically  she  goes 
through  the  usual  routine  of  dressing  and  walking  by  the , 
side  of  her  brother ; and  she  answers  him  when  he  speaks  to 
her,  though  her  words  and  manner  are  listless  and  apathetic. 

The  next  morning  Eugenie’s  usual  place  before  the  cele- 
brated statue  is  vacant,  and  Laurence  Trevor,  who  comes  in 
about  twelve  o’clock,  walks  about  for  awhile,  thinking  she 
will  soon  appear. 

After  waiting  more  than  an  hour,  and  becoming  impatient 
meanwhile,  he  asks  a lady  artist,  to  whom  he  has  occasion- 
ally seen  Eugenie  speak,  if  she  thinks  the  latter  is  coming 
to-day. 

“I  don’t  know,”  is  the  reply;  “she  was  looking  very 
unwell  yesterday,  and  her  brother  came  for  her  in  the  after- 
noon ; she  is  never  so  late  as  this  when  she  comes  to  work.” 

“Thank  you,”  he  returns.  Then,  after  waiting  a little 
longer,  he  departs,  feeling  that  further  waste  of  time  is 
useless. 

The  following  morning  he  comes  again  with  no  better 
results,  but  Eugenie’s  absence  enhances  her  value  in  his  eyes. 

He  could  have  given  her  up  easily  and  without  a heart- 
ache, as  he  once  meditated  doing,  but  to  be  given  up  him- 
self is  quite  another  matter,  and  the  suspicion  that  her 
brother  is  keeping  her  out  of  his  way  only  makes  him  more 
eager  to  see  her  again. 

The  idea  of  trying  to  ascertain  her  address,  and  seeking 
her  in  her  brother’s  house  occurs  to  his  mind,  but  is  speedily 
dismissed.  He  must  meet  her  here  on  neutral  ground,  so 
that  he  may  tell  her  just  what  he  likes  about  himself,  and 


44 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


persuade  her  to  marry  him  clandestinely,  and  without  leav- 
ing to  her  brother  a trace  of  their  whereabouts. 

Every  morning  for  a whole  week  he  looks  in  at  the 
museum  about  twelve  o'clock,  and,  day  after  day,  the  girl 
whom  he  seeks  is  absent. 

His  craving  for  her  presence  has  grown,  meanwhile,  but 
he  is  beginning  to  think  that  the  probabilities  are  that  they 
will  never  meet  again,  unless  he  dares  all  possible  conse- 
quences and  goes  to  her  brother's  house  and  asks  to  see  her  ; 
when  one  morning  he  is  walking  through  thb  sculpture  gal- 
leries as  usual  he  sees  a face  that  attracts  him,  though,  for 
a moment,  he  does  not  recognize  it. 

It  is  Eugenie,  with  her  hair  brushed  up  and  twisted  in 
thick  coils  on  the  top  of  her  head. 

The  effect  is  more  than  satisfactory.  The  different  style 
of  wearing  the  hair  gives  dignity  to  the  countenance,  shows 
the  graceful  curves  of  the  neck,  and  appears  to  afford  addi- 
tional height  to  the  whole  figure. 

But  it  seems  to  take  away  from  the  extreme  youthfulness 
of  the  girl,  and  she  looks  every  day  of  nineteen  — the  age 
which  she  told  Laurence  Trevor  she  had  attained. 

He  is  so  pleased  to  see  her,  however,  that  he  does  not  pause 
to  ask  himself  whether  or  not  he  likes  the  change  ; but  he 
comes  to  her  side,  and,  holding  out  his  hand  for  hers,  says: 

“ So  we  meet  at  last ! If  I had  not  found  you  here 
to-day,  I should  have  left  England  to-morrow  ! ” 

The  statement  startles  her,  and  she  g^es  him  her  hand 
in  silence. 

“ Where  have  you  been  ? ” he  asks.  And  his  tone  ^nplies 
that  she  belongs  to  him,  and  he  has  a right  to  question  her. 

“I  have  been  ill,”  she  replies,  while  her  eyes  droop,  and 
her  cheeks  burn  under  his  ardent  gaze. 

“Poor,  little  darling,”  he  whispers,  tenderly,  “and  I have 
been  here  day  after  day  seeking  you,  until  I felt  that  if  I 
did  not  find  you  to-day  I could  bear  existence  no  longer.  ” 


TOILED  BY  LOVE . 45 

“You  did  not  come  the  morning  you  promised,”  she 
replies,  with  reproach  in  her  eyes. 

“ And  you  did  ? ” he  asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Dearest!  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  come  that  morn- 
ing,” he  whispers,  earnestly;  “I  was  detained  by  important 
business  until  it  was  too  late,  and  I would  have  sent  you  a 
note  or  a telegram,  but  it  would  not  have  been  given  to  you 
here,  and  I could  not  send  it  to  your  home,  because  I did 
not  know  the  address.” 

“Yes,  it  would  never  have  done  to  send  a telegram  to  me 
at  home,”  she  replies,  gravely. 

“ Why,  has  anything  unusual  happened?  ” he  asks  quickly. 

“I  don't  know,”  she  answers,  evasively. 

“Nonsense,  you  must  know,”  he  asserts,  with  some  irri- 
tation. 

“ I think  that  some  change  in  our  affairs  is  about  to  take 
place,”  she  says,  slowly;  “it  is  more  than  probable  that  my 
visits  here  will  not  be  frequent,  or  many.” 

“ I must  know  what  you  mean!  ” he  exclaims,  impatiently. 
“Put  on  your  hat  and  come  out  for  a stroll  with  me.” 

“Come”  repeated  Trevor,  “let  us  go  for  a stroll.” 

“No,  I must  not  do  that  again,”  Eugenie  says,  firmly. 
“I  believe  that  my  brother  half  suspects  I was  out  with 
somebody  the  day  you  and  I went  to  the  park  together. 
His  manner  to  me  that  evening  was  peculiar  and  watchful. 
The  next  day  he  came  for  me  at  four  o'clock  instead  of  five, 
then  he  desired  me  to  stay  away  from  here,  and  it  was  only 
because  I was  quite  indifferent  about  it  that  he  allowed  me 
to  come  to-day.” 

“What  tyranny!”  exclaims  Trevor,  warmly.  “But  let 
him  say  what  he  likes,  I must  talk  to  you.  Let  us  go  and 
look  at  the  Assyrian  tablets;  we  can  talk  there.” 

If  Eugenie  was  not  so  hopelessly  in  love  she  would  demur 
even  at  this,  so  great  is  her  fear  of  her  brother.  But  Trevor 
is  not  to  be  denied,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  touch 


46 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


of  his  hand,  his  living,  breathing  presence,  overcome  ail 
the  resolutions  she  has  made,  and  she  rises  and  walks  with 
him  to  one  of  the  Assyrian  galleries. 

Presently  they  are  leaning  over  a glass  case,  looking  at 
some  clay  tablets,  the  attendant  being  at  some  distance,  and 
Trevor  says,  with  an  assumption  of  proprietorship  he  has 
but  little  right  to  assume  : 

“Now,  dearest,  tell  me  what  troubles  you  ; then  I shall 
know  how  to  act.” 

“I  am  afraid  I shall  be  taken  back  to  Mexico  very 
shortly,”  she  replied. 

“Ah  ! How  is  that  ? ” he  demands. 

“There  is  a plot  on  foot  to  overthrow  the  present 
government,”  is  the  answer.  “My  brother  sympathizes 
with  it.  He  brought  one  of  the  chiefs  to  our  house  the 
other  night,  and  it  is  almost  settled  that  Leon  shall  return 
with  him,  and  that  I shall  go  too.” 

“ But  why  should  you  go  ? ” asks  Trevor,  calmly. 

Mentally,  he  thinks  this  a capital  way  of  getting  rid  of 
Mr.  Leon. 

“If  he  joins  them,  it  is  part  of  the  compact  that  he  shall 
give  my  hand  to  his  friend,”  says  Eugenie,  slowly. 

“Ah,  now  I understand,”  cries  Trevor,  in  a low,  eager 
tone,  “this  brings  matters  to  a crisis.  You  will  have  to 
ehose  between  him  and  me  ; is  your  choice  already  made  ? ” 

One  long  look  into  his  eyes,  than  she  answers  faintly, 
vhile  her  bosom  palpitates  with  emotion  : 

“ It  is.” 

“ And  it  is  in  my  favor  ? ” he  asks,  taking  her  hand  and 
holding  it  in  his  own. 

“Yes,”  she  replies. 

“Very  well,  we  will  lose  no  time,”  he  responds  promptly. 

Then,  with  sudden  gravity,  he  adds: 

“You  must  not  think  me  hard,  dearest,  if  I refuse  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  your  brother  and  his  fellow-con- 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


47 


spirators.  In  England  we  call  plots  against  an  existing 
government  treason.” 

“Yes;  Leon  has  disappointed  me,”  she  replies,  sadly. 
“ He  thinks  more  of  his  own  ambition  than  of  my  happi- 
ness; by  his  conduct  he  has  justified  me  in  acting  for 
myself.” 

“Very  well;  since  that  is  settled,  the  rest  will  be  easy,” 
whispers  Trevor.  “ I suppose  you  have  no  preference  as  to 
the  church  in  which  we  shall  be  married  ? ” 

“Yes,”  she  says,  while  she  blushes  prettily,  “I  should 
like  to  be  married  at  that  church  outside  Regent's  Park;  I 
thought  so  when  we  passed  it  the  other  day.” 

“ What  a funny  idea ! ” he  exclaims,  then  he  asks,  sus- 
piciously: 

“ Do  you  know  any  one  there  ? ” 

“No,  I was  never  inside  it  in  my  life,”  she  returns;  and 
he  answers,  quietly: 

“Very  well,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish.  Will  Thursday  suit 
you  ? ” 

“It  is  very  soon,”  she  murmurs,  nervously. 

“But  not  too  soon,”  he  urges;  “remember,  your  brother 
may  be  more  prompt  than  we,  and  may  want  to  take  you 
away  from  England  at  a few  hours'  notice.” 

“Yes,  that  is  what  I fear,”  she  replies. 

So  Thursday  is  decided  upon;  and  then  they  begin  to 
retrace  their  steps  to  the  spot  where  Eugenie's  easel  is 
awaiting  her  return. 

But  the  moment  she  comes  in  sight  of  it,  she  steps 
back  in  alarm,  murmuring  in  a low,  frightened  tone: 

“There  is  Leon,  my  brother,  waiting  for  me.” 

“I  don't  want  to  meet  him,”  says  Trevor,  hastily  stepping 
behind  :ome  colossal  figure. 

“ I will  look  in  here  to-morrow  and  the  next  day;  but  if 
you  are  not  here  I shall  expect  you  at  the  church  on  Thurs- 
day, at  one  o'clock;  you  won't  fail  me,  will  you  ?” 

“ No,  I will  not ! ” she  replies. 


48 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ You  swear  it  ? ” 

“I  do  ! ” 

Then  for  one  intoxicating  minute  their  lips  meet,  before 
Eugenie  tears  herself  away  to  return  ':o  the  spot  where  her 
brother  is  impatiently  awaiting  her. 

“ Where  have  you  been  ? ” asks  that  gentleman,  imperi- 
ously, as  she  approaches  him. 

“I  have  been  looking  at  some  of  the  marbles,”  she 
replies,  indifferently. 

“ Alone  ?”  he  demands,  incredulously. 

“No,  an  artist  was  with  me,”  is  the  truthful  reply;  “but 
he  has  gone  about  his  own  business  now.  People  here  do 
help  each  other,”  she  adds,  in  the  hope  of  averting  a lect- 
ure, and  she  glances  at  a young  couple  at  a short  distance 
from  where  they  stand,  where  the  gentleman  is  assisting  the 
lady  with  her  drawing. 

“You  will  not  need  such  help  any  longer,”  retorts  Leon 
de  Maestro,  frowning  darkly,  and  giving  his  teeth  an 
ominous  snap.  “I  was  wrong  from  the  first  to  let  you 
come  here.  This  is  your  last  visit,  and  you  may  pack  up 
your  things,  and  we  will  carry  them  away  with  us.” 

“I  should  like  to  finish  this  drawing,”  she  says,  nerv- 
ously. “You  might  let  me  come  for  the  rest  of  this  week ; 
I ask  no  more.” 

“You  cannot  do  that,”  he  returns,  brusquely;  “we  leave 
England  on  Saturday.” 

“Well,  I shall  come  once  more,”  she  says,  with  sudden 
decision.  “ I am  not  a child,  nor  a bale  of  merchandise, 
and  I will  not  take  home  my  drawings  to-day.” 

“ She  gives  her  head  a defiant  toss  as  she  thus  speaks,  and 
Leon,  who  has  had  some  previous  specimens  of  her  obsti- 
nacy, shrugs  his  shoulders  and  abandons  the  disputed  point, 
though  he  says,  peremptorily  : 

“Put  on  your  hat,  and  come  with  me  at  once.” 

And  she  obeys ; but  she  does  not  take  her  drawings  with 
her.  She  feels  that  if  she  leaves  them  behind  they  will  b« 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


49 


an  excuse  for  coming  here  on  Thursday,  and  once  away 
from  her  brother’s  house  she  A^ill  be  able  to  keep  her 
appointment  at  the  church  with  Laurence  Trevor. 

But  her  brother’s  suspicions  are  aroused.  She  is  con- 
scious that  she  is  watched  day  and  night,  and  meanwhile 
preparations  for  her  marriage  with  Carlo  di  Castro,  a man 
whom  she  abhors,  are  being  pushed  forward  rapidly. 

This  marriage  is  to  take  place  on  Saturday  morning. 
Then  they  are  to  go  on  board  a vessel  in  which  their  berths 
are  already  taken ; and  it  is  hoped  that,  during  the  voyage, 
when  she  knows  him  better,  the  young  lady  will  get  over 
her  aversion  to  the  man  whom  she  is  to  be  compelled  to 
marry. 

During  the  next  two  days  Eugenie  is  very  quiet.  She 
seems  subdued  rather  than  frightened,  and  her  brother  is 
half  convinced  that  she  is  making  a virtue  of  necessity,  and 
will  offer  no  serious  opposition  to  his  will. 

So  much  to  himself,  however,  depends  upon  the  success- 
ful carrying  out  of  his  arrangements,  that  he  does  not 
allow  his  sister  to  leave  the  house  alone ; and,  therefore, 
when  she  announces  her  intention  on  Thursday  morning  of 
going  to  the  British  Museum  to  draw,  he  violently  and 
positively  forbids  it. 

“ I am  not  a child,  and  I will  not  be  treated  as  a child  ! ” 
Eugenie  exclaims,  resolutely.  “ You  have  no  legal  right  to 
control  my  actions  ! I am  your  sister,  not  your  daughter, 
and  if  you  carry  your  tyranny  too  far  I will  appeal  to  the 
police  for  protection  ! ” 

So  unlike  herself,  so  unexpected  is  this  declaration  of 
independence,  that  Leo  de  Maestro  is  amazed,  and  he 
indignantly  cries: 

“ This  to  me  ? ” 

“ This  to  you  ! ” retorts  his  sister,  meeting  his  fiery 
glance  with  equally  flashing  eyes. 

“ I will  not  be  controlled  ! ” she  continues,  passionately. 


4 


50 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“ I have  friends  to  whom  I would  say  adieu  ; and  I will  go 
to  the  museum  to-day,  stop  me  if  you  dare  ! ” 

“No,  I will  not  prevent  you;  I will  go  with  you,”  he 
says,  with  an  unpleasant  sneer.  “ I will  witness  your  adieu 
with  your  fair-haired  artist.” 

Eugenie  gives  an  involuntary  start,  for  until  now  she  did 
not  know  that  Leon  had  seen  or  heard  of  Laurence  Trevor  ; 
and  he  is  evidently  alluding  to  him  as  the  “ fair-haired 
artist.” 

But  she  quickly  retorts: 

“ Please  yourself  about  that ; I am  going,  and  I am  going 
to  draw  for  a little  while.  It  may  be  the  last  time  that  I 
shall  sit  in  those  lofty  galleries  that  I love  so  much.” 

“It  will  be  for  the  last  time,”  he  says,  emphatically;  “so 
you  may  make  the  most  of  it.  And  do  not  tax  my  patience 
too  heavily ; we  must  be  home  again  at  two  o'clock  ; I have 
men  coming  to  see  me.” 

“Very  well,”  replies  Eugenie,  with  seeming  indifference. 

To  herself  she  says  : 

“ Two  o'clock  ! What  will  have  happened  between  this 
and  two  o'clock  ? ” 

It  is  twelve  o'clock  before  the  brother  and  sister  reach 
the  British  Museum.  It  is  fifteen  minutes  past  the  hour 
when  Eugenie  has  got  her  easel  arranged  and  begins  to 
draw. 

She  keeps  on  her  walking  attire,  and  her  companions  ob- 
serve that  her  costume  of  gray  velvet — with  large  hat  and 
feathers  to  match  — is  very  becoming. 

It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  few  dresses  ordered  for  her  trous- 
seau, and  her  brother  had  looked  surprised  when  he  met 
her  with  it  on. 

For  a few  minutes  she  draws  quietly ; then  she  sees  a girl 
artist,  to  whom  she  goes  to  speak.  Presently  she  walks  up 
to  another  ; and  Leon,  whose  suspicions  are  allayed,  begins 
listlessly  to  look  at  the  statues  near  to  which  he  stands. 

“I  wish  you  would  talk  to  my  brother  for  a few  minutes,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  51 

she  whispers  to  a girl  whom  she  knows  better  than  the  rest. 
Then  she  introduces  them,  and  presently  remarking  : 

“ I must  have  dropped  my  handkerchief  in  the  dressing- 
room,”  walks  out  of  the  gallery  into  the  great  hall. 

Her  Brother  watches  her  jealously,  but  the  lady  artist 
makes  a remark  which  politeness  compels  him  to  answer, 
and  when  he  looks  round  again  Eugenie  is  no  longer  to  be 
seen. 

In  that  one  moment  she  has  escaped  from  him. 

Swiftly  she  walks,  not  daring  to  run,  to  the  great  gates  •, 
here  she  finds  a hansom  cab,  into  which  she  steps,  telling 
the  man  to  drive  her  to  Regent’s  Park ; and  before  her 
flight  is  discovered  she  is  in  the  church,  standing  at  the 
altar  with  Laurence  Trevor,  repeating  after  the  clergyman 
the  solemn  words  that  make  her  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

We  must  return  to  our  heroine,  whom  we  left  walking 
by  the  side  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Tavenner  so  long  as  Lord  Claude 
Irongate  could  watch  them. 

Once  beyond  his  sight  and  reach,  however,  Hetty  be- 
comes conscious  of  the  imprudence  of  a girl  in  her  station 
in  life  being  seen  walking  with  a gentleman,  and  she  sud- 
denly stops,  and  looking  up  to  his  face  she  says,  simply  : 

“ I am  very  grateful  to  you,  sir,  for  your  kindness  toward 
me,  but  now  I must  go  home  alone.” 

“Perhaps  you  are  right,”  he  replies,  looking  upon  her 
lovely  face,  and  feeling  how  great  a temptation  her  beauty 
and  her  artless  innocence  have  for  him,  “ but  I can  go  a 
little  farther  with  you.” 

“I  would  rather  you  did  not,  if  you  please,”  she  says, 
with  quiet  dignity.  “ But  I beg  to  thank  you  again  for 
coming  so  far.” 

“No  thanks  are  due  to  me,  my  child;  it  has  given  me 


ye  of  ill  lib. 


52 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


pleasure  to  walk  with  you,”  he  returns.  “But  I hope  I 
shall  see  you  again  soon.” 

To  this  she  makes  no  direct  reply,  though  a faint  blush 
suffuses  her  sweet  face,  and  her  eyelids  droop  as  she  curtsies 
to  him,  and,  without  another  word,  turns  away,  and  walks 
steadily  in  the  direction  of  Stanmoor. 

She  has  not  proceeded  far  before  she  meets  Jem  Blake, 
one  of  the  men  engaged  in  the  stables  at  Stanmoor. 

This  man  was  the  lodger  who  had  the  one  vacant  room 
which  the  Hamblins  could  spare  in  their  small  house  in  Fig 
street,  Chelsea.  He  had  followed  them  from  London, 
though  he  no  longer  lives  in  their  house,  and  he  has  a room 
over  one  of  the  stables,  but  he  rarely  lets  a day  pass  by  with- 
out trying  to  exchange  a few  civil  words  with  Mrs.  Hamblin 
or  with  Hetty. 

No  one  supposes  that  any  more  powerful  motive  than  the 
desire  to  get  work  induced  Jem  Blake  to  come  after  the 
Hamblins  to  Stanmoor,  but  something  in  the  man's  eyes 
this  afternoon  makes  Hetty  feel  glad  that  Mr.  Tavenner  is 
no  longer  walking  with  her. 

She  does  not  like  Jem  Blake  ; she  does  not  know  what  it 
is  in  him  that  she  dislikes,  but  her  instinct  warns  her 
against  him,  and  now,  with  a careless: 

“Good-afternoon,  Jem  !”  she  would  walk  on  alone,  if  he 
did  not  turn  and  join  her. 

“ Going  home.  Miss  Hetty  ? ” he  asks,  keeping  close  to 
her  side. 

“Yes,”  is  the  brief  reply. 

“ Are  you  walking  for  a wager  ? ” he  asks,  as  she  does  not 
pause  or  slacken  her  steps. 

“No ; but  I am  in  a hurry,”  she  says,  impatiently.  “I 
wish  you  would  not  keep  so  close  to  my  side  ! ” 

“But  Fve  got  something  to  say  to  you,  Hetty,”  he  per- 
sists. “ I've  had  a piece  of  good  luck  and  I want  you  to 
share  it  with  me.” 

“I'm  glad  to  hear  you  have  had  some  good  luck,  Jem,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


53 


she  responds,,  “ but  you  must  tell  me  about  it  some  other 
time.  I can't  stay  now.” 

And  she  determinedly  turns  down  a path  leading  to  the 
house  which  is  now  their  home. 

“ That's  just  the  way  she  always  serves  me,”  mutters 
Jem,  moodily ; “ she's  always  in  a hurry  and  can't  listen  to 
me.  But  I will  speak  to  her  one  day  and  speak  my  mind, 
too.” 

Meanwhile  Hetty  has  entered  the  house  and  has  gone 
direct  to  her  own  room.  A tumult  of  conflicting  thoughts 
and  feelings  agitate  her  breast. 

When  she  left  home  a couple  of  hours  ago  she  went  with 
the  light  heart  and  fearless  tread  of  innocent  childhood ; 
she  has  come  back  with  her  heart  fluttering,  her  nerves  un- 
strung and  with  her  limbs  still  aching  with  the  numbness 
consequent  upon  fainting  for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

But  this  afternoon  has  been  fraught  with  new  experiences 
to  Hetty. 

When  she  first  saw  Lord  Claude  Irongate  she  admired  his 
golden  hair,  his  blue  eyes,  his  long,  drooping  mustache  and 
his  manly  figure,  as  every  woman  must  do,  but  seeing  more 
of  him  made  her  shrink  from  the  glance  of  his  bold  eyes, 
with  an  undefined  uneasiness,  which  his  c<r  Wet  to  her  this 
afternoon  has  now  deepened  into  absolute  d islike. 

But  though  she  dislikes  him  she  is  likewise  afraid  of  him. 

She  knows  that  it  is  in  his  power  to  dismiss  her  father 
and  her  brother  from  his  employment  and  throw  them  all 
back  upon  the  misery  and  squalor  in  which  the  early  years 
of  her  life  were  spent,  and  she  wrings  her  hands  helplessly, 
anxious,  above  all  things,  to  avoid  such  a catastrophe. 

“I  can  do  nothing  but  be  silent,”  she  muses ; “if  I don't 
tell  even  my  mother  what  has  happened,  and  if  I avoid  his 
lordship  as  much  as  possible,  he  may  soon  get  over  his  vexa- 
tion and  cease  to  take  any  notice  of  me.” 

She  clasps  her  hands,  and  looks  dreamily  through  the 
open  window  as  she  says  this. 


54 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


The  perfume  of  roses  envelopes  her.  The  garden  below 
is  bright  with  flowers ; the  country  beyond  is  rich,  undu- 
lating, and  well  wooded ; to  the  right  she  can  see  cattle 
grazing,  young  horses  in  their  paddocks,  and  away  to  the 
left  is  a dark  belt  of  trees,  which  hide  the  mansion  of 
Colnehurst,  the  seat  of  the  Irongates,  from  her  view. 

She  has  never  been  inside  Colnehurst  Castle. 

Soon  after  the  Hamblins  came  to  Stanmoor,  the  house- 
keeper at  the  castle,  meaning  to  be  kind  and  condescending, 
had  called  to  see  the  trainer’s  wife,  taking  a small  present 
of  fruit  with  her,  and  had  invited  her  to  come  and  take  tea 
with  her,  and  bring  Hetty  also. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  politely  but  firmly  declined  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  remarking,  with  the  intention  of  making 
her  refusal  less  brusque,  that  she  never  went  anywhere,  and 
that  she  did  not  allow  her  daughter  to  go  anywhere  without 
her. 

This  reply  so  offended  the  housekeeper  that  she  has  not 
been  to  Stanmoor  since. 

“ Though  I am  the  wife  of  a servant,  I don’t  choose  to 
associate  with  servants,”  Mrs.  Hamblin  said  disdainfully  to 
her  daughter,  when  the  housekeeper  had  gone  ; and  Hetty 
cordially  approved  of  the  sentiment. 

Thus  it  will  be  perceived  that  Hetty  is  being  trained  by 
her  mother  with  prejudices  and  hopes  and  aspirations  far 
above  her  station  in  life,  and  that  her  parent  is  filling  her 
mind  with  ideas  that  may  hereafter  cause  her  great  misery. 

But  the  mother’s  great  desire  is  to  elevate  her  daughter 
above  the  rank  in  which  she  was  born. 

To  achieve  this  end  she  would  make  any  personal  sacrifice. 

She  tried  hard  to  awaken  in  her  son’s  mind  a thirst  for 
learning,  to  fire  his  soul  with  the  ambition  necessary  to 
enable  him  to  force  his  way  up  in  the  world,  but  poor  Chris 
was  too  like  his  father  for  his  mother  to  make  anything  of 
him ; and  now  all  her  energies  are  concentrated  upon  giv- 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


55 


ing  Hetty  the  education  and  refinement  of  a gentlewoman, 
despite  her  uncongenial  surroundings. 

Hetty  is  very  clever  with  her  pencil  and  brush  ; she 
draws  figures  well,  and  she  is  particularly  successful  in 
drawing  horses. 

It  may  seem  an  odd  subject  for  a girl  to  take,  but  we 
always  do  that  best  with  which  we  are  best  acquainted,  and 
horses  have  been  more  familiar  to  Hetty  than  flowers  and 
landscapes  from  her  birth. 

One  might  almost  say  that  Hetty  had  been  born  and  bred 
among  horses.  She  is  a splendid  horsewoman,  and  her 
father,  who  loves  her  better,  perhaps,  than  he  loves  any  other 
human  being,  would  not  hesitate  to  let  her  ride  the  most 
high-spirited  horse  in  Lord  Irongate's  stables. 

Very  proud  is  Joe  Hamblin  of  his  lovely  daughter,  but  if 
there  is  one  of  her  talents  more  than  another  of  which  he 
is  most  proud,  it  is  the  facility  and  accuracy  with  which  she 
will  take  the  portraits  of  his  favorite  steeds. 

More  than  once  he  has  brought  a golden  sovereign  to 
Hetty,  as  the  price  paid  by  the  owner  of  a special  horse  for 
the  animal's  portrait,  and  Hetty  has  looked  at  the  money  as 
though  it  has  been  fairy  gold,  that  would  melt  away  the 
moment  she  touched  it. 

Joe  Hamblin  is  never  tired  of  talking  of  his  daughter's 
talent.  It  is  a safe  subject  upon  which  to  expatiate. 

His  wife  had  bound  him  by  an  oath  never  to  mention  the 
name  of  her  family,  not  even  to  his  own  children,  and  he 
has  long  since  voted  it  a misfortune,  rather  than  advantage, 
for  a man  in  his  position  to  have  married  a lady. 

So  he  is  not  proud  of  his  wife,  but  his  daughter  is  a part 
of  himself.  She  bears  his  name,  she  inherits  his  good  looks, 
even  though  she  may  likewise  resemble  her  mother,  and 
any  honor  bestowed  upon  her  must  likewise  reflect  credit 
upon  him. 

Thus  it  happens  that  with  a view  of  distracting  her 
thoughts  from  the  difficulties  that  may  arise  from  Lord 


56 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Claude's  discomfiture  this  afternoon,  and  possibly  still 
more  from  dreaming  about  Gilbert  Tavenner's  splendid 
face,  Hetty  turns  resolutely  from  the  window  and,  seating 
herself  at  a table,  upon  which  are  her  drawings,  crayons, 
and  paints,  she  begins  to  apply  herself  to  the  task  of  finish- 
ing the  portrait  of  Paris,  the  most  valuable  horse  in  Lord 
Claude's  stables. 

She  is  painting  this  portrait  to  please  her  father.  She 
has  made  several  “studies”  of  the  beautiful  animal;  the 
oil  painting,  which  is  a small  one,  is  nearly  finished,  and 
she  is  so  intent  upon  her  work  that  she  does  not  hear  her 
mother's  footstep,  as  the  latter  comes  into  the  room. 

“I  thought  you  were  out,”  says  the  voice  at  her  side, 
which  startles  her. 

But  she  replies,  nervously  : 

“ Yes  ; I went  for  a walk,  but  I came  back  a little  while 
ago,  and  I want  to  get  this  done  to-day.  Will  you  send 
Molly  up  with  a cup  of  tea  to  me,  mother  ? ” * 

“Yes,”  replies  Mrs.  Hamblin,  sweetly;  “and  you  are 
right  to  work  when  you  feel  you  can  do  it.” 

Then,  after  a pause,  she  says,  earnestly  : 

“ I am  glad  to  see  you  have  taken  up  a special  line  of 
your  own,  Hetty ; you  may  not  be  much  of  an  artist,  when 
compared  with  the  great  masters  who  are  world-famous, 
but  you  excel  in  drawing  the  horse  marvelously  for  one  of 
your  age,  and  though  you  may  never  achieve  wealth  or 
fame,  you  will  always  be  able  to  earn  your  daily  bread.” 

“ The  woman  who  pick  weeds  in  the  fields  are  able  to  do 
that,  mother,”  retorts  the  girl,  to  whom  “her  daily  bread  ” 
seems  a matter  of  slight  importance  — it  having  always  been 
provided  for  her. 

“Yes,  but  how  do  they  earn  it  ? ” says  her  mother, 
sternly.  “ By  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  the  aching  of  their 
limbs,  the  numbing  of  their  intellects,  the  deadening  of 
their  moral  perceptions.  But  I see,”  she  adds,  changing 
her  tone  suddenly  from  deep  earnestness  to  one  of  light 


FOILED  BY  LO  VE. 


57 


banter,  “you  expected  me  to  prophesy  that  you  will  in 
time  become  a second  Eosa  Bonheur.  Very  well,  I have  no 
objection ; all  things  are  possible  to  those  who  work  and 
can  wait  for  them.” 

“I  shall  be  satisfied  to  be  much  less  than  Eosa  Bonheur,” 
replies  Hetty  ; “ though  I hope  to  do  more  than  earn  my 
daily  bread.  But  I want  my  tea,  mother  ; you  will  send  it 
up,  won't  you  ? ” 

“At  once,”  is  the  reply  ; and  Hetty  is  again  alone. 

All  through  that  summer  evening,  till  the  sun  sets  and 
darkness  comes  over  the  land,  Hetty  works  at  the  portrait 
of  Paris. 

She  is  working  to  drive  away  or  stifle  her  own  thoughts, 
quite  as  much  as  to  finish  the  portrait  of  the  horse  ; and  in 
the  morning  she  rises  early,  works  again  at  it  for  a couple  of 
hours,  and,  when  her  father  comes  in  at  eleven  in  the 
morning  for  his  cheese  and  ale,  she  is  able  to  give  him  the 
portrait  finished. 

“Never  saw  anything  like  it  in  my  life,”  says  Joe  Ham- 
blin, surveying  the  painting  with  unspeakable  pride.  “ Why 
that  is  Paris  to  the  very  T.  He  looks  as  if  he  was  going  to 
walk,  don't  he,  wife  ? And  there's  just  that  wicked  roll  of 
the  eye  that  he's  got  when  he's  up  to  mischief.  'Tis  a won- 
derful picture,  let  anybody  as  likes  say  that  it  isn't.” 

Hetty  listens  with  pleasure  to  her  father's  remarks  ; it  is 
gratifying  to  have  one's  wTork  praised,  even  by  one  whose 
judgment  one  does  not  appreciate  highly,  but  she  turns  to 
her  mother,  to  whose  opinion  she  attaches  much  more  value, 
as  the  latter  says  : ' 

“ Yes,  the  portrait  is  undoubtedly  good  ; but  as  a work  of 
art  the  picture  is  not  a success.  But  never  mind,  Hetty, 
better  luck  next  time." 

Whereupon  J oe  exclaims,  impatiently  : 

“1  calls  this  a work  of  art,  and  of  nature,  too,  and  I 
wouldn't  give  a fig  for  the  opinion  of  them  as  doesn't.” 

So  saying,  he  snaps  his  fingers  defiantly,  and,  carrying 


58  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

the  small  oil  painting  with  him,  he  walks  out  of  the  room. 

Tw’o  days  after  this  Joe  startles  his  wife  and  daughter  by 
saying  at  dinner-time  : 

“ Hetty,  Fve  got  a commission  for  you  — that’s  what  the 
gentleman  called  it.” 

“ A commission,  father  ? ” asks  the  girl,  incredulously. 

“Yes;  you’re  to  paint  the  portrait  of  a horse  for  Mr. 
Tavenner,  of  Hindfleet  Hall.” 

“ For  Mr.  Tavenner  ? ” repeats  the  girl,  timidly,  while  a 
beautiful  blush  suffuses  her  lovely  countenance.  “How 
should  he  know  anything  about  me  ? ” 

“Why,  in  this  way,”  replies  her  parent,  complacently. 
“ I sent  your  portrait  of  Paris  up  to  Colnehurst,  for  Lord 
Claude  to  look  at,  but  he  wrasn’t  at  home.  He’s  gone  to 
London  and  they  don’t  know  when  he  will  be  back 
again.  But  Lady  Daphne  looked  at  it,  and  Mr.  Gilbert 
Tavenner  happened  to  be  there,  and  he  took  a great 
fancy  to  it ; and  he  said  he’d  gladly  give  five  pounds  for 
the  portrait  of  his  father’s  old  charger,  Nestor  ; and  he 
came  out  to  speak  to  me,  and  we  settled  it  all  between  us, 
and  you  are  to  go  up  to  Hindfleet  to-morrow  morning  to 
make  the  first  sketch.” 

“But  I can’t  go  alone,”  protests  Hetty,  blushing  deeply. 

“Of  course  not ; I shall  go  with  you,”  says  Mrs.  Hamblin, 
promptly. 

Then,  turning  to  her  husband,  she  asks  : 

“ Who  is  this  Mr.  Tavenner  ? ” 

“I  don’t  know  much  about  him,”  is  the  reply  ; “he  lives 
at  Hindfleet  Hall  with  his  mother,  and  they  do  say  he’ll  be 
Duke  of  Boldcastle  when  his  grandfather  dies.” 

“ Ah  ! ” gasps  Mrs.  Hamblin,  trembling,  while  her  face 
becomes  ashy  in  its  hue ; “ and  you  say  his  mother  is 
alive  ? ” 

“Yes ; do  you  want  to  see  her  ? ” asks  Joe,  a trifle  inso- 
lently. 

“ No  ; why  should  I want  to  see  her  ? ” is  the  reply.  “ But 


FOILED  BY  LO VE.  59 

Hetty  shall  not  go  to  Hindfleet  alone  ; if  she  goes  there 
to-morrow  morning,  I shall  accompany  her.” 

“Very  well,”  he  says  indifferently  ; “I  don’t  suppose  any- 
body will  object.” 

So  it  is  settled  ; but  on  the  following  morning  Mr.  Gil- 
bert Tavenner  looks  very  blank  indeed  when  Hetty  Ham- 
blin appears,  accompanied  by  a thickly-veiled  woman,  whom 
she  introduces  as  her  mother. 

He  expected  she  would  come  alone,  or  with  no  other 
escort  but  her  father,  who  could  easily  be  sent  about  his 
business. 

But  this  tall,  darkly- veiled  woman  cannot  be  disposed  of 
so  summarily  and  he  is  conscious  that  she  is  watching  him 
so  closely  that  he  cannot  say  a single  word  to  Hetty  with- 
out her  mother  hearing  it. 

Love  laughs  at  locksmiths,  however  ; laughs  also  at  strict 
duennas ; and  Gilbert  Tavenner  is  mischievously  deter- 
mined to  outwit  the  thickly-veiled  woman  who  sits  mute  as 
a statue,  keeping  guard  over  the  girl  whose  sweet  face  has 
haunted  his  sleeping  and  waking  moments  since  that  hour 
when  she  rushed  madly  across  the  weir  to  escape  from 
Lord  Claude,  and  he  clasped  her  warm,  breathing  form  in 
his  extended  arms. 

He  remembers  that  scene  but  too  well ; it  comes  back 
vividly  to  his  memory  now,  and  he  half  wonders,  as  he 
watches  the  play  of  light  upon  her  lovely  countenance,  if 
she  wrould  fly  from  him  with  such  determined  aversion,  if 
he  tried  to  kiss  her,  as  she  showed  to  his  neighbor  and 
friend. 

“Many  a man  would  think  the  world  well  lost,”  he 
muses,  “ to  call  such  a sweet  girl  as  that  his  own  ; but  such 
happiness  is  not  for  me  ; to  me  she  is  forbidden.” 

Then  he  turns  and  walks  sadly  away,  half  — but  only 
half  — determined  to  see  her  no  more,  and  thus  avoid  what 
to  him  may  prove  a terrible  temptation. 


60 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

That  visit  to  Hindfleet  Hall,  to  enable  Hetty  to  take 
the  portrait  of  “ Nestor,”  had  a depressing  and  lasting 
effect  upon  Mrs.  Hamblin. 

She  said  nothing  about  it  at  the  time  ; she  spoke  to  no 
one  while  there,  and  she  kept  her  face  well  covered  with  a 
thick  lace  veil,  but  when  she  reached  home  she  became 
hysterical,  and  wildly  vowed  she  would  never  go  to  Hind- 
fleet  again. 

For  so  quiet  and  self-contained  a woman,  this  outburst 
is  the  more  remarkable,  and  Hetty  wonders  at  it ; though, 
when  her  mother  recovers,  she  does  not  venture  to  ask  the 
cause  of  her  extreme  agitation. 

But  there  are  no  more  visits  to  Hindfleet  for  her  or  her 
mother.  Joe  Hamblin  manages  this ; and,  when  Hetty 
again  wants  a sitting,  Nestor  is  sent  over  to  Stanmoor  for 
the  purpose. 

He  is  an  old  horse,  he  has  outlived  his  master,  whom  he 
carried  on  the  battle-field.  But  he  is  not  decrepit ; in  other 
hands  he  would  still  be  made  to  work,  and  Hetty  and  he 
soon  become  fast  friends.  He  will  eat  sugar  and  bread 
from  her  hand  ; he  does  not  disdain  an  apple,  and  he 
dearly  loves  a bowl  of  ale,  with  which  she  sometimes  regales 
him. 

So  the  portrait  progresses  ; but  the  fair  g#l  and  the  old 
charger  make  a far  finer  picture  than  the  young  artist  will 
ever  paint. 

This  is  the  opinion  of  Gilbert  Tavenner,  as  one  morning 
he  walks  into  that  portion  of  the  garden  at  Stanmoor  where 
Nestor  and  the  maiden  are  standing  side  by  side,  the  head 
of  the  horse  resting  upon  her  shoulder,  as  she  feeds  him 
from  her  hands. 

Tavenner’s  unexpected  presence  startles  boHi  alike. 

The  horse  recognizes  his  master,  and  neighs  a welcome ; 
and  Hetty,  covered  with  sweet  confusion,  blushes  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


61 


droops  her  long  eyelashes  till  they  sweep  her  cheek,  as  she 
bows  humbly  before  him. 

Such  a reception  would  be  embarrassing  if  Gilbert  could 
not  pat  the  horse  affectionately,  and  say,  in  an  ordinary 
tone  : 

“ Good-morning,  Miss  Hetty  ; I thought  I would  look  in 
as  I came  by  to  see  how  you  are  getting  on  with  Nestor's 
portrait.” 

“ Thank  you,  it  is  nearly  finished,  sir,”  she  replies, 
brightly,  quickly  recovering  her  self-possession,  and  turning 
to  the  easel,  upon  which  stands  the  oil  painting.  “ I think 
I have  caught  the  expression  of  the  face,  don't  you  ? ” 
she  asks,  lifting  her  own  starlike  eyes  to  meet  his,  and  read 
his  answer  in  them. 

“ Admirably  ! Admirably  ! ” he  replies.  But  it  seems  as 
if  he  is  thinking  more  of  her  beauty  than  of  the  excellence 
of  her  work ; and  presently,  becoming  conscious,  through 
her  half  turning  Her  head  away,  that  he  had  been  looking 
at  her  too  intently,  he  says,  gently  : 

“You  and  Nestor  seem  to  have  become  fast  friends.” 

“Yes,  I love  horses,”  she  replies,  with  spontaneous 
warmth;  “and  they  like  me.  The  most  impatient  horse 
will  let  me  mount  him.” 

“Then  you  do  ride  ?”  he  asks,  with  interest. 

“Oh,  yes ; I can  ride  almost  anything,”  she  replies,  with  a 
low,  rippling  laugh. 

“I  have  never  seen  you  do  so,”  he  rejoins,  watching  the 
changing  beauty  of  her  animated  face,  and  noticing  how 
the  sunlight  falls  upon  and  tinges  with  dark  gold  her 
bronze-brown  hair. 

“Oh,  no,  I could  not  ride  Lord  Claude's  horses!”  she 
says,  quickly,  an  unconscious  pride  and  dignity  trans- 
forming her  in  one  moment  from  a timid,  bashful  girl  into 
a resolute,  haughty  woman. 

“Do  you  mean  that  he  would  object  to  your  doing  so?” 
he  asks,  pursuing  the  subject  farther  than  she  desires. 


62 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“I  don’t  know/’  she  replies,  with  a troubled  countenance; 
“but  I should  object  to  accept  such  a favor  at  his  hands; 
and  even  if  I did  not,  my  mother  would  not  allow  it.  ” 

“Your  mother  looks  after  you  very  carefully,”  he  says, 
with  a smile. 

“Yes,  she  loves  me,”  replies  Hetty,  with  a tender  light 
in  her  eyes,  which  tempts  him  to  say,  impulsively: 

“She  could  not  help  doing  that!  ” 

Hetty  does  not  reply.  It  is  the  tone  in  which  the  words 
are  uttered,  not  the  words  themselves,  which  gives  them 
meaning ; and,  feeling  that  the  interview  has  lasted  long 
enough — though  she  would  like  still  to  prolong  it  — she 
turns  to  her  easel,  takes  up  her  palette  and  brush,  and 
begins  to  paint. 

“This  is  Nestor’s  last  sitting,  is  it  not?”  asks  Tavenner, 
with  an  amused  smile. 

“Yes,  that  is  why  I was  petting  him,”  she  answers, 
gravely.  “ I was  thinking  that  perhaps  I should  never  see 
him  again.” 

“He  is  old,  certainly,”  assents  Tavenner  ; “but  he  is  not 
likely  to  die  just  yet,  so  I don’t  see  why  you  should  not  see 
him.  I ” 

Then  he  pulls  himself  up  suddenly,  remembering  the 
social  gulf  that  yawns  between  them.  A gulf  which  Hetty 
cannot  cross  over  unaided,  and  across  which  it  is  not  for 
him  to  stretch  out  his  hands  to  help  her. 

“Here  is  my  mother,”  says  Hetty  at  this  juncture,  and 
Gilbert  Tavenner  turns  with  some  curiosity  to  look  at  the 
woman  who  was  so  closely  veiled  when  she  came  to  Hind- 
fleet  that  he  could  not  distinguish  her  features. 

And  this  curiosity  deepens  as  she  approaches.  She  is 
attired  in  a dark  stuff  gown,  almost  black  in  its  hue,  with 
no  ornaments  save  a plain  white  linen  collar  and  cuffs.  But 
as  he  gazes  at  her  he  can  better  understand  that  she  is  the 
mother  of  the  fair  girl,  whose  beautiful  face  so  constantly 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  63 

haunts  him,  than  that  she  is  the  wife  of  Joe  Hamblin,  the 
trainer. 

Many  women,  when  they  marry  as  this  poor  lady  had 
done,  try  to  throw  aside  all  traces  of  their  past  life,  and 
willfully  and  intentionally  sink  to  the  husband's  level. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin's  infatuation  had  not  lasted  long 
enough  for  this. 

Before  the  habits  and  instincts  of  a gentlewoman  could 
leave  her  she  had  awakened  from  her  dream.  She  had 
come  back  to  her  right  mind  as  one  may  recover  from  a fit 
of  mania,  and  because  it  was  too  late  to  retrace  the  step  she 
had  taken  she  clung  with  the  greater  tenacity  to  all  in  her- 
self that  remained  of  her  old  life. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  lifts  his  hat  as  she  approaches  to  speak 
to  him,  and  a slight  flush  comes  over  the  unhappy  woman's 
pale  cheeks  as  she  says,  in  a soft,  musical  voice,  and  with 
the  pronunciation  of  an  educated  woman  : 

“ Good-morning,  sir.  You  have  come  to  see  Hetty's 
work,  I suppose  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  he  replies  ; “ the  painting  is  nearly  finished,  I see, 
and  it  bids  fair  to  be  a good  likeness.  I was  going  to  ask 
if  your  daughter  is  equally  fortunate  in  painting  dogs.” 

“No,”  says  Mrs.  Hamblin,  promptly;  “she  paints  noth- 
ing so  well  as  a horse.” 

“I  am  sorry  for  that,”  he  says,  quietly.  “My  mother  has 
a pet  dog,  wrhose  portrait  she  would  like  to  have  before  he 
grows  older,  and  I was  thinking  Miss  Hetty  might  paint  it 
for  her.” 

“You  are  very  kind,”  returns  Mrs.  Hamblin,  courteously; 
“ but  Hetty  is  a little  more  than  a child,  and  has  not  much 
artistic  talent ; she  has  just  a knack  of  catching  the  portraits 
of  horses,  because  she  loves  them  so  well ; but  she  will  need 
long  years  of  training  and  of  earnest  study  before  she 
becomes  a successful  artist.” 

Hetty  looks  from  the  speaker  to  Mr.  Tavenner  as  these 

words  are  uttered. 


64 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Her  glance  is  appealing ; there  is  a suspicious  moisture  in 
her  eye,  and  he,  promply  responding  to  it,  says : 

“ I don’t  agree  with  you,  madam ; your  daughter  possesses 
singular  talent  for  one  so  young;  with  perseverance  and 
hard  work  she  must  overcome  all  difficulties.  What  is  it, 
Hamblin  ! ” 

This  last  to  Joe,  who  has  made  his  appearance  with  a 
smirk  on  his  good-looking  face,  as  though  he  had  said  to 
himself,  “Why  should  not  I join  the  fine  company  ? ” 

The  gentleman’s  question  pulls  him  up  as  it  were ; warns 
him  not  to  forget  his  place,  and  he  touches  his  hat  as  he 
replies,  civilly : 

“Nothing,  sir.  I’m  only  come  to  see  how  my  little  girl  is 
getting  on  with  her  picture.” 

“It  is  nearly  finished,”  replies  Tavenner,  coldly.  “When 
it  is  ready  you  can  bring  it  to  Hindfleet,  and  I will  pay  you 
for  it.  Good-morning ! ” 

He  lifts  his  hat  to  Hetty  and  her  mother  with  studied 
courtesy,  nods  to  Joe,  and  walks  back  into  the  lane  which 
will  take  him  into  the  high-road. 

“Don’t  think  much  of  him,”  remarks  Joe  Hamblin, 
looking  after  his  retreating  figure.  “ Lord  Claude  is  worth 
a dozen  of  him,  with  his  grand  ways.  Did  he  find  fault 
with  your  picture,  Hetty  ? ” 

“No  ; he  seemed  pleased  with  it,”  is  the  reply.  “But  I 
am  not  satisfied  with  it  myself.” 

Then,  thinking  to  change  the  subject  to  safer  ground, 
she  says  : 

“You  and  Chris  are  going  to  Epsom  to-morrow,  aren’t 
you,  father  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I suppose,  so,”  he  answers,  doubtfully.  “ I’m  wait- 
ing for  a telegram  from  his  lordship.  Ah,  here  he  is,”  he 
adds,  in  a tone  of  satisfaction,  as  he  perceives  Lord  Claude 
Irongate  coming  toward  the  house. 

He  goes  to  meet  his  master,  and  Hetty  tries  to  give  her 
whole  attention  to  her  painting.  She  quite  expects  that  his 


So  /ou  thought  to  run  away  irom  me,  did  you  $ ” he  asks,  dinging  his  arms  around  her  waist. 


VI 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


65 


lordship  will  turn  with  her  father  and  go  to  the  stables,  and 
that  for  some  time,  at  any  rate,  he  will  take  no  notice  of 
her,  for  they  have  not  met  since  that  day,  more  than  a fort- 
night ago,  when  she  escaped  from  him  over  the  weir. 

Indeed,  Lord  Claude  has  been  absent  from  Colnehurst 
since  that  day,  and  probably  would  not  be  back  now  if  Paris 
had  not  been  entered  for  the  Derby,  which  will  be  run  next 
week,  and  Joe  Hamblin  and  his  son  were  now  waiting  for 
certain  orders  which  could  scarcely  be  conveyed  in  a letter. 

But  if  Hetty  supposes  that  Lord  Claude  is  abashed  at  his 
own  conduct,  she  is  quite  mistaken ; his  eye  has  quickly 
wandered  from  her  father  to  herself.  Her  occupation  sur- 
prises him,  for  he  has  not  seen  the  portrait  of  Paris,  and  he 
cannot,  for  the  moment,  understand  why  old  Nestor  is 
tethered  on  the  lawn. 

So,  with  a careless  remark  to  his  trainer,  he  walks  up  to 
where  Hetty  is  standing,  looks  over  her  shoulder  at  the 
painting,  and  asks,  with  the  assured  insolence  of  one  who 
has  a right  to  put  the  question  : 

“ What  are  you  doing  here  ? ” 

“I  am  painting,”  replies  the  girl,  her  face  flushing  and 
her  hand  becoming  unsteady  with  the  consciousness  of  his 
near  presence. 

“So  it  seems,”  he  returns,  in  a tone  which  sounds  like  a 
sneer. 

Then  he  asks,  suddenly  : 

“Is  that  one  of  my  horses  ? ” 

“No,”  she  answers,  nervously. 

“ Whose  is  it  ? ” he  demands. 

“Mr.  Tavenner’s,”  she  returns. 

“And  this  painting  is  for  him?”  persists  his  lordship, 
sternly. 

“Yes,”  she  says,  steadily. 

She  begins  to  think  it  is  impertinent  of  him  to  ask  so 
many  questions,  but  she  dare  not  say  so  to  her  father’s  em- 
ployer, though  the  hot  blood  mounts  to  her  cheek,  and  her 


66 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


eyes  flash  with  indignation  at  his  sneering  laugh  as  he  says: 

“ Ah,  that  is  the  little  game,  is  it?  You  two  have  made  the 
most  of  my  absence!” 

“I  don’t  understand  you,  my  lord,”  exclaimed  Hetty, 
angrily. 

“Of  course  not ; you  are  a sweet  piece  of  innocence,”  lie 
retorts,  savagely. 

But  he  speaks  in  a low  tone,  for  Joe  Hamblin,  after  wait- 
ing a few  seconds,  has  followed  him,  and  he  does  not  want 
him  to  hear  what  he  says. 

“Don’t  you  think  she’s  doing  it  well,  my  lord  ?”  asks  Joe, 
humbly. 

“Yes,  marvelously  well,”  is  the  reply,  “'but  this  cannot 
be  her  first  attempt.” 

“ Oh,  no,  mv  lord  ! She’s  painted  the  likeness  of  dozens 
of  my  ’osses,  but  her  best  is  the  portrait  of  Paris  ; I’ve  got 
it  in  the  harness-room.  I took  it  to  the  castle  to  show  you 
the  day  you  went  away,  or  soon  after,  and  Mr.  Tavenner 
saw  it  and  gave  me  an  order  for  Hetty  to  paint  his  father’s 
charger  — that’s  why  he’s  here  ; but  you  won’t  want  him 
again  after  to-day,  will  you,  Hetty  ? ” 

“No,  father,”  is  the  low-toned  answer. 

“It  doesn’t  matter  to  me  how  often  the  horse  oomes 
here,”  returns  Lord  Claude,  loftily;  “but,  as  he  comes,  I 
suppose  his  master  comes,  too.” 

“Mr.  Tavenner  has  only  been  here  once,  sir,  and  that 
was  just  now,”  asserts  Joe,  sturdily. 

His  lordship’s  tone  seems  to  imply  that  no  one  ought  to 
be  allowed  to  come  to  the  house  without  his  permission, 
and  as  the  use  of  the  house  is  part  of  the  payment  he 
receives  for  his  services  the  trainer  would  be  quick  to 
resent  any  dictation  on  that  subject. 

“It  is  nothing  to  me  how  often  he  comes,”  says  his  lord- 
ship,  superciliously. 

Then,  without  another  word,  he  walks  off  to  the  stables. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 67 

followed  by  Joe,  and  just  nods  to  Mrs.  Hamblin,  whom  he 
passes  on  his  way. 

Joe,  and  the  men  under  him,  have  a bad  quarter  of  an 
hour  after  this,  for  Lord  Claude  is  in  a bad  temper,  and  as 
lie  cannot  expend  his  vexation  upon  those  who  have  annoyed 
him,  everybody  else  comes  in  for  a share  of  his  irritability. 

He  has  a good  deal  to  worry  him,  no  doubt,  and  his  tem- 
per has  not  much  improved  when  he  steps  into  the  dog-cart 
in  which  he  came  to  Stanmoor  and  drives  over  to  Colne- 
hurst  Castle. 

Here  he  arrives  just  in  time  for  luncheon,  and  he  is  less 
pleased  than  surprised  to  find  Gilbert  Tavenner  about  to 
take  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

His  absences  from  home  are  so  frequent  that  his  aunt 
and  sister  have  ceased  to  notice  them;  but  they  receive  him 
affectionately  whenever  he  does  return,  and  Tavenner 
shakes  hands  with  him  as  though  they  had  met  but  yester- 
day. 

The  meal  progresses  cheerfully,  until  the  servants  have 
retired;  then,  when  they  are  alone,  Lord  Claude  asks: 

“ Are  you  going  to  the  Derby  next  week,  Tavenner  ? ” 

“No,  I never  attend  races,  and  I never  bet,”  is  the  quiet 
reply. 

“ What  a model  young  man  ! ” laughs  Lord  Claude,  in  an 
unpleasant  tone.  “ But  you  are  right  to  stay  at  home  when 
there  are  so  many  pretty  girls  in  the  neighborhood.” 

“Pretty  girls  !”  echoes  Lady  Daphne,  jealously;  “Avhere 
are  they  ? ” 

Gilbert  bows  gallantly  to  herself;  but  she  pouts,  and  says 
fretfully: 

“But  I should  like  to  go  to  the  Derby  and  to  the  Oaks, 
too;  you  are  not  staying  at  home  for  me  ? ” 

“No,”  he  replies,  gravely:  “I  am  staying  at  home  partly 
because  I have  no  inclination  to  go,  but  principally  because 
I have  promised  my  mother  to  avoid  the  family  failing  and 
never  bet.” 


68  ’ FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

“And  do  you  always  keep  the  promises  made  to  your 
mother  ?”  asks  Lady  Daphne,  angrily. 

“Yes,  I have  always  done  so  hitherto,”  he  replies;  but  he 
sighs  as  he  says  this,  for  he  knows  full  well  that,  but  for  his 
promises  to  his  mother,  he  would  not  be  such  a frequent 
visitor  at  Colnehurst  Castle. 

“ Can't  you  take  us  to  the  races,  Claude  ? ” asks  Lady 
Daphne,  turning  to  her  brother. 

“ No,  impossible  ! ” he  replies,  emphatically.  “I  shall 
have  too  much  to  think  about  to  look  after  any  ladies.” 

Whereupon  Lady  Daphne  pouts,  and  Tavenner  would 
change  the  subject,  but  Lord  Claude  is  determined  to  rouse 
his  sister's  jealousy,  and  presently  he  says: 

“ You  were  at  Stanmoor  this  morning,  weren't  you,  Tav- 
enner?” 

“Yes,”  is  the  reply,  “I  looked  in  as  I was  passing.” 

He  speaks  carelessly,  but  he  is  conscious  that  his  face 
flushes,  and  that  Lady  Daphne  notices  it. 

“ Awfully  pretty  girl  is  Hetty  Hamblin,”  remarks  Lord 
Claude,  sipping  his  wine.  “Have  you  seen  her,  Daphne?” 

“No,”  is  the  curt  reply. 

“Clever,  too,”  continues  her  brother,  “though  I don't 
think  she  will  make  a fortune  by  painting.” 

“Fortunes  are  not  easily  made  nowaday,”  remarks  Taven- 
ner, trying  to  keep  his  temper,  and  feeling  as  though  he 
could  with  pleasure  kick  his  host  and  prospective  brother- 
in-law,  out  of  the  room. 

“ That  isn't  a bad  portrait  of  your  old  horse  that  she  is 
making!”  continues  Lord  Claude.  “What  are  you  going 
to  pay  her  for  it?” 

“I  offered  her  father  five  guineas,”  is  the  cold  reply. 

But  Lord  Claude  is  not  to  be  driven  from  his  purpose, 
and  he  laughs  lightly  as  he  retorts: 

“Ah!  her  father  is  the  honest  broker,  is  he?  Not  a bad 
idea.  I think  I must  find  a commission  for  his  daughter — 
unless  you  can  give  her  something  to  do,  Daphne.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


69 


“What  can  I give  her?”  asks  Lady  Daphne,  crossly.  “I 
want  a maid,  it  is  true,  but  I don’t  suppose  she  is  at  all 
qualified  for  such  a post.  How  old  is  she?  ” 

“ Sixteen  or  seventeen,  perhaps,”  is  the  reply,  “ with  a face 
like  a painting  by  Greuze.” 

Lady  Daphne  frowns  ere  she  says,  impatiently: 

“ You  always  go  into  raptures  over  some  girl’s  face,  Claude, 
in  which  nobody  else  can  discover  any  beauty,  but  as  you 
and  Gilbert  both  admire  her  I suppose  she  must  be  some- 
thing remarkable.  ” 

“She  is,”  assents  her  brother. 

But  she  waits  in  vain  for  the  disclaimer  she  expects  from 
Gilbert  Tavenner.  He  does  admire  Hetty,  and  he  will  not 
deny  the  fact. 

Better,  perhaps,  for  Hetty  if  he  did,  for  Lady  Daphne’s 
jealousy  is  now  thoroughly  aroused,  and  she  is  resolved, 
without  delay,  to  go  to  the  trainer’s  house  and  judge  for 
herself  of  the  charms  of  her  humble  rival. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  day  following  the  preceding  conversation.  Lady 
Daphne  Irongate  persuades  her  aunt  to  accompany  her  to 
see  the  trainer’s  daughter  at  Stanmoor. 

Mrs.  Beevor  is  a simple,  kind-hearted  old  lady,  whose 
control  over  her  niece  is  purely  nominal,  and  who  usually 
does  as  she  is  told,  in  a docile  manner  that  is  perfectly 
child-like. 

Consequently,  when  she  walks  into  the  house  at  Stan- 
moor with  a sweet  smile  upon  her  faded  face,  Mrs.  Hamblin 
rises  to  receive  her  courteously,  having  no  doubt  that  the 
visit,  however  unwelcome  it  may  be,  is  prompted  by 
kindness. 

There  are  few  things  more  galling  to  a proud  and  sensi- 
tive woman  than  to  be  patronized,  to  be  treated  as  an 


70 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


inferior  by  those  with  whom  she  was  once  on  an  equality ; 
to  be  talked  to  and  lectured,  as  though  the  speaker  were 
made  of  finest  porcelain  and  she  as  commonest  delf. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  has  hitherto  pretty  well  escaped  this  kind 
of  thing,  for  this  is  the  first  time  she  has  lived  in  a house 
belonging  to  her  husbands  employer,  and  when  any  well- 
meaning'  lady  has  called  with  tracts  or  trifling  presents  a 
glance  into  her  eyes  has  been  quite  sufficient  to  tell  the 
visitor  that  she  has  no  common  woman  with  whom  to  deal. 

But  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  has  not  come  here  to  consider 
the  susceptibilities  of  her  brother’s  servants  ; she  has  come 
to-day  because  curiosity  and  jealousy  combined  make  it 
next  to  impossible  for  her  to  stay  away,  and  she  stares  with 
well-bred  insolence  when,  after  offering  chairs  to  both  of 
her  visitors,  Mrs.  Hamblin  re-seats  herself,  and  takes  up 
the  shirt  she  was  making  when  they  entered. 

“ You  seem  to  have  comfortable  quarters  here,”  remarks 
Lady  Daphne,  glancing  round  with  some  surprise,  noting 
the  air  of  refinement  that  pervades  the  apartment,  which 
accords  so  well  with  the  plainly-dressed,  neat-looking 
woman  who  seems  so  little  impressed  by  their  presence. 

“ Yes,  thank  you,”  is  the  quiet  reply.  “I  was  unwilling 
to  leave  London,  but  this  place  seems  to  suit  my  daughter, 
and  that  to  me  is  everything.” 

“Ah  ! it  was  about  your  daughter  we  came  here  to-day,” 
says  Lady  Daphne,  haughtily.  “I  want  a maid,  and  if  she 
is  qualified  I might  take  her  for  a month  on  trial.” 

“You  come  here  to  propose  that  my  daughter  shall  be- 
come a servant ! ” exclaims  Mrs.  Hamblin,  rising  to  her 
feet  in  her  agitation,  her  pale  face  flushed  with  indignation, 
her  air  and  manner  that  of  an  outraged  queen. 

A man  might  be  impressed  by  her  dignity  and  pride,  and 
some  women  would  respect  her  feelings,  but  Lady  Daphne 
Irongate  comes  of  a bad  race,  and  as  the  angry  mother  grows 
excited  she  becomes  cruelly  calm,  and  she  asks,  in  a cool, 
insolent  tone  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


71 


“ And  why  not  ? Her  father  is  a servant,  and  I presume 
that  you  have  been  a servant ; you  have  the  tone  and  man- 
ners that  only  a lady’s  maid  could  have  copied  from  her 
mistress.” 

For  once,  and  not  for  the  only  time  in  her  life,  Lady 
Daphne  Irongate  overshoots  her  mark. 

The  words,  intended  to  humiliate  Mrs.  Hamblin,  in- 
stantaneously recall  her  to  herself. 

She  becomes  calm,  as  suddenly  as  she  had  become  ex- 
cited ; she  resumes  her  seat,  takes  up  her  stitching,  and 
says  calmly  and  quietly  : 

“No  doubt  you  mean  kindly.  Lady  Daphne,  but  I must 
decline  your  offer ; my  daughter  is  not  qualified  for  the 
position  you  intend  for  her.” 

“ I suppose  she  can  learn  ! ” retorts  the  young  lady,  tartly. 

“No,  she  cannot  learn  that,”  is  the  resolute  response. 

“You  mean  that  you  will  not  allow  her  to  come  to  me  as 
a servant  ! ” exclaims  Lady  Daphne,  losing  her  temper  as 
Mrs.  Hamblin  becomes  cool. 

“If  you  will  put  it  in  that  way,” replies  the  trainer’s  wife, 
quietly,  “I  do.” 

“I  suppose  you  expect  that  your  daughter  will  marry  a 
peer,  because  she  is  reputed  to  be  pretty,”  sneers  Lady 
Daphne,  unable  any  longer  to  conceal  her  spite  and  her 
jealousy. 

“Peers  do  not  visit  us,”  replies  Mrs.  Hamblin,  quietly 
and  with  a provoking  smile  ; “ and  my  daughter  is  only 
sixteen  — much  too  young,  as  you  will  perceive,  to  wait 
upon  your  ladyship,  or  to  think  of  marriage.” 

“ Where  is  she  ? ” demands  Lady  Daphne,  in  a tone  which 
tempts  Mrs.  Hamblin  to  retort  sharply  ; but  she  controls 
her  temper,  and  replies,  calmly  : 

“She  has  gone  to  Colneford  and  will  not  be  back  for 
some  time.” 

“Then  our  staying  here  any  longer  is  useless,”  says  Lady 


72 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Daphne,  insolently.  “But  send  her  to  the  castle  to  me 
to-morrow  ; I wish  to  see  her.” 

To  this  Mrs.  Hamblin  makes  no  reply,  and  Lady  Daphne, 
if  she  were  sensible,  would  accept  her  silence  for  what  it  is 
worth. 

But  Lord  Claude’s  sister  has  been  accustomed  to  dictate 
to  the  wives  and  families  of  the  laborers  on  her  brother’s 
estate,  and,  though  she  feels  now  that  this  is  no  ordinary 
woman  with  whom  she  has  to  deal,  she  is  too  exasperated  to 
withdraw  from  the  contest  with  dignity,  and  she  asks, 
sharply  : 

“Do  you  hear  what  I say  ?” 

For  a moment  Mrs.  Hamblin  hesitates,  then  she  says, 
firmly  and  with  quiet  dignity : 

“ Yes,  Lady  Daphne  ; I hear  you.” 

“Then  see  that  you  obey  me,”  is  the  imperious  command. 
And  her  ladyship  would  sweep  out  of  the  house  feeling 
that  she  had  had  the  best  of  it,  if  the  trainer’s  wife  did  not 
say,  resolutely  and  calmly  : 

“You  must  pardon  me,  my  lady,  but  you  can  have 
nothing  to  say  to  my  daughter  that  will  be  for  her  comfort 
or  welfare  ; and  I decline  to  send  her  to  you  to  be  spoken 
to  as  you  are  speaking  to  me.” 

“ If  you  do  not  obey  me,  my  brother  shall  dismiss  your 
husband  from  his  service  this  very  week,”  is  the  undignified 
threat  that  Mrs.  Beevor  tries  to  hush,  and  which  provokes 
Mrs.  Hamblin  to  say,  angrily  : 

“ That  is  their  business,  not  mine  ! ” 

Then,  without  another  word,  she  turns  and  walks  into  an 
inner  room,  leaving  the  two  ladies  to  find  their  way  out  of 
the  house  as  well  as  they  can. 

“ I never  was  so  insulted  in  my  life  ! ” cries  Lady  Daphne, 
on  her  way  to  the  carriage  that  is  waiting  for  them. 

Her  face  is  flushed  all  over,  and  her  pale  blue  eyes  gleam 
with  rage. 

It  is  a misfortune  in  a family  when  all  the  beauty  goes  to 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  73 

the  sons,  and  the  daughters  are  proportionately  plain  ; this 
is  the  case  with  the  Irongates. 

Lord  Claude  is  exceptionally  handsome,  and  so  is  his 
brother  — the  Earl  of  Tonwater,  but  Lady  Daphne  is  not 
even  good-looking;  she  is  six-and-twenty  too,  and  has 
already  lost  the  fresh  charm  of  her  youth. 

Her  brother,  whom  they  meet  riding  toward  Stanmoor, 
mentally  thinks  how  much  she  has  gone  off  in  her  looks 
during  the  past  six  months,  and  he  sees  at  once,  from  the 
expression  of  her  countenance,  that  something  has  occurred 
to  seriously  annoy  her. 

Not  wishing  to  share  her  vexation,  he  would  pass  her 
carriage  with  a salutation  ; but  she  orders  the  coachman  to 
pull  up,  and,  calling  her  brother  to  her  side,  she  says, 
imperiously  : 

“ Claude,  I have  been  insulted  by  that  woman  at  Stan- 
moor ; and  I hope  you  will  oblige  me  by  dismissing  her  hus- 
band from  your  service  without  delay.” 

“ Out  of  the  question,  my  dear,”  is  the  brotherly  response. 
“ Hamblin  is  most  useful  to  me,  and  his  wife  is  a very 
superior  woman.  It  is  impossible  that  she  can  have  in- 
sulted you.” 

“But  I tell  you  that  she  has  done  so,”  asserts  his  sister, 
passionately. 

Whereupon  Lord  Claude  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  says, 
carelessly : 

“We  will  talk  about  it  another  time,”  and,  lifting  his 
hat,  he  rides  on,  amused  rather  than  distressed  by  the  man- 
ner in  which  Lady  Daphne  flings  herself  back  in  the  car- 
riage and  calls  in  a sharp  voice  to  the  footman  : 

“ Home ! ” 

Not  a word  of  what  has  passed  between  his  sister  and 
himself  is  spoken  of  by  Lord  Claude  when  he  reaches  Stan- 
moor. 

He  has  a lengthy  conference  with  Joe  Hamblin,  who  is  to 
go  to  Epsom  with  Paris,  the  horse  entered  for  the  Derby, 


74 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


and  he  spends  a good  half-hour  in  talking  to  Chris,  who  is 
to  ride  the  animal,  and  whose  fortune  will  he  made  if  he 
wins  the  race. 

Probably  his  lordship  is  fatigued  with  so  much  talking, 
for,  instead  of  mounting  his  horse  when  he  has  gone  his 
round  of  the  stables,  he  says  to  Joe,  casually  : 

“ I feel  rather  fagged  to-day  ; I shall  go  round  to  the 
house  and  ask  your  wife  to  give  me  a cup  of  tea.” 

“ She’ll  be  proud  to  do  so,  my  lord,”  is  the  ready  response  ; 
“but  I’ll  send  and  tell  her  you  are  coming.” 

“Certainly  not;  I’m  sure  to  find  her  in,”  returns  Lord 
Claude,  courteously. 

Then  he  walks  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  feeling  satis- 
fied that  neither  Joe  nor  Chris  will  think  of  joining  him. 

He  finds  Mrs.  Hamblin  by  the  window  in  the  sitting- 
room,  her  head  bowed  till  it  is  half  hidden  among  the  flow- 
ers, her  hands  covering  her  face,  upon  which  there  are  still 
the  distinct  traces  of  tears. 

.Remembering  what  his  sister  had  said  to  him,  he  can 
guess  the  cause  of  her  grief,  but  he  pretends  not  to  observe 
her  agitation,  and  he  says,  cheerfully  and  cordially  : 

“ Mrs.  Hamblin,  I have  a headache,  and  I have  come  to 
beg  a cup  of  tea.” 

“With  pleasure,  my  lord,”  she  replies,  her  face  lighting 
up  like  the  sun  shining  after  an  April  shower. 

“You  will  find  this  a very  comfortable  chair,”  she  adds, 
pushing  one  to  a spot  where  he  will  get  the  breeze  from  the 
window  ; “you  shall  have  your  tea  in  a few  minutes.” 

Then  she  leaves  him,  and  Lord  Claude  leans  back  in  the 
chair  indicated  and  surveys  the  apartment  critically  and 
thoughtfully. 

Simple  though  the  furniture  is,  there  is  an  air  of  refine- 
ment about  the  apartment  that  strikes  him  at  once.  Hetty’s 
easel  stands  in  one  corner,  there  are  flowers  in  simple  vases, 
a few  plaster  casts  bought  for  a mere  trifle  from  some 
wandering  Italian  ; the  floor  of  the  room  is  stained  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  75 

polished,  and  the  fire-place  is  filled  with  growing  ferns  and 
flowers. 

“ Ton  my  word;  I prefer  it  to  some  of  the  rooms  in  the 
castle/’  he  thinks;  with  a satisfied  smile ; ' <tnd  the  mother 
is  a wonderful  woman,  too,  one  of  whom  no  man  need  be 
ashamed.  It  is  the  men  folk  that  are  unpresentable ; if 
young  Chris  would  break  his  neck  and  Joe  would  drink 
himself  to  death,  one  might  very  easily  put  up  with  Hetty 
and  her  mother.  Sweet  little  Hetty  ! she  has  kept  silent  I 
know  about  the  kiss  that  I didn’t  get,  that  is  a secret 
between  us,  and  I shall  win  her  round  in  time  to  give  me 
as  many  kisses  as  I desire.  But  I must  get  the  mother  on 
my  side,  or  Tavenner  will  steal  a march  upon  me.” 

He  closes  his  eyes  as  he  comes  to  this  conclusion,  the 
better  to  appear  as  though  his  head  was  giving  him  great 
pain. 

Every  moment  he  expects  that  Hetty  will  come  into  the 
room,  and  then  he  feels  sure  that  her  sympathy  for  his 
present  sufferings  will  quickly  overcome  any  resentment 
which  she  may  still  cherish  against  him. 

But  Hetty  does  not  come;  and  speedily  her  mother 
returns  to  the  room,  followed  by  her  maid  Molly,  who  carries 
a tray  upon  which  is  a small  china  cup  and  saucer,  teapot, 
sugar-basin,  and  some  thin  bread  and  butter,  and  who  stares 
in  amazement  at  the  worked  tea-cloth  which  her  mistress 
spreads  upon  the  round  table. 

“You  are  not  going  to  make  me  take  my  tea  alone,  Mrs. 
Hamblin  ? ” says  his  lordship,  glancing  at  the  single  cup. 

“Thank  you,  I shall  have  mine  later  on,”  she  replies, 
courteously.  “Hetty  has  gone  to  Colneford,  and  I will 
wait  for  her.  ” 

“But  you  must  have  a cup  of  tea  with  me,”  he  persists. 
“ I want  to  chat  with  you,  and  it  is  impossible  to  talk  when 
I am  drinking  alone.” 

Mrs.  Hamblin’s  face  becomes  a shade  paler  when  he  says 
he  wants  to  talk  with  her.  Lady  Daphne’s  threat  is  still 


76 


FOILED  BY  LOVK 


fresh  in  her  mind;  her  angry  voice  still  seems  to  ring 
through  her  ears,  and  she  feels  sure  that  Lord  Claude  is 
going  to  say  something  about  his  sister's  visit. 

But  she  reflects  that  he  cannot  mean  to  be  very  disagree- 
able, or  he  would  not  come  in  this  friendly  fashion  ; so  a 
second  cup  is  brought,  and  presently  she  is  drinking  tea 
with  his  lordship,  as  though  she  were  a lady  entertaining 
an  ordinary  guest. 

How  Lady  Daphne's  blood  would  boil  with  indignation  if 
she  could  look  in  upon  them ! Fortunately,  there  is  no 
chance  of  her  doing  so,  and  for  a few  minutes  nothing 
more  interesting  transpires  than  questions  about  the  tea 
being  to  his  lordship's  liking,  and  inquiries  about  the  sup- 
positious headache. 

Presently  he  says  : 

“My  sister  was  here  this  afternoon,  was  she  not?” 

“Yes,  my  lord,”  is  the  reply. 

“Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  she  came  about?”  he 
asks,  gently;  then,  seeing  Mrs.  Hamblin's  color  rise  and 
her  eyes  grow  dark  with  excitement,  he  adds,  hastily: 

“ I don't  want  to  hear  any  of  the  discussion,  you  know; 
nothing  disagreeable.  She  lost  her  temper ; perhaps  you 
lost  yours.  I know  I often  lose  mine  with  her.  But  just 
tell  me  why  she  came  and  what  you  differed  about.” 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  still  too  angry  with  Lady  Daphne 
to  comply  strictly  with  this  request,  and  she  says,  indig- 
nantly: 

“ Lady  Daphne  threatened  to  dismiss  my  husband  from 
your  lordship's  service,  because  I refused  to  send  my  daugh- 
ter to  the  castle  or  allow  her  to  become  her  ladyship's 
maid.” 

“ Preposterous  ! ” laughs  Lord  Claude.  “ She  threatens 
what  she  cannot  perform  ; but  the  fact  is  she  is  jealous  of 
Hetty,  and  I am  afraid  I helped  to  make  her  so.” 

“You,  my  lord!”  exclaims  Mrs.  Hamblin,  in  displeased 
surprise. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


77 


“ Yes  I,”  he  replies,  with  contrition.  “The  fact  is,”  he 
continues,  with  seeming  frankness,  “ I admire  Hetty  greatly  ; 
I don't  think  I ever  saw  a more  lovely  face,  or  a more 
graceful  figure,  and  last  evening  I was  foolish  enough  to 
say  so.  My  sister  took  alarm  — it  is  to  her  interest  to  keep 
me  unmarried  until  she  is  married  herself  ; and  -even  then 
I need  scarcely  tell  you  she  would  not  like  me  to  marry 
your  daughter ; so  I suppose  she  came  to-day  to  see  for 
herself  whether  or  not  her  fears  were  unfounded.” 

“ What  you  tell  me,  my  lord,  seems  scarcely  consistent  with 
your  sister's  desire  to  have  Hetty  at  the  castle,  where  you 
would  frequently  see  her,”,  objects  Mrs.  Hamblin,  incredu- 
lously. 

“ Oh,  my  sister  would  have  taken  very  good  care  of  that,” 
he  replied,  “but  I am  glad  you  refused.  Hetty  is  far  too 
sweet  and  lovely  to  be  subject  for  an  hour  to  my  sister's 
caprice.” 

“ I am  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  of  Hetty  with  admiration, 
my  lord,”  returns  the  trainer's  wife  with  dignity;  “my 
daughter  is  a good  girl,  her  beauty  is  her  misfortune,  not 
her  fault,  and  unless  you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  not 
to  breathe  a word  of  flattery  or  of  love  to  her,  I shall  feel  it 
my  duty  at  any  — at  every  sacrifice,  to  take  her  away  to 
some  place  where  you  can  never  find  her.” 

“Listen  to  me,  Mrs.  Hamblin,”  Lord  Claude  cries 
eagerly  ; “ my  intentions  toward  your  daughter  are  strictly 
honorable  — I love  her,  I hope  to  marry  her  ; but  you  must 
know  that  my  family  will  oppose  me  in  every  possible  way. 
My  sister  has  no  home  except  with  me ; she  has  quarreled 
with  my  brother's  wife,  and  therefore  until  Lady  Daphne 
marries  I cannot  turn  her  out  of  my  house.  But  she  is 
engaged  to  Mr.  Tavenner  ; I hope  they  will  soon  be  mar- 
ried, and  then,  whoever  stands  in  the  way,  I will  come 
forward  openly  as  Hetty's  suitor. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  breathes  quickly,  her  pale  cheek  flushes, 
her  eyes  swim  with  the  rush  of  feeling  that  comes  over  her ; 


78 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


for  the  dream  that  has  haunted  her  married  life  seeing 
about  to  be  fulfilled. 

She  sacrificed  her  position,  cast  all  the  world  aside  to 
marry  the  man  with  whom  she  was  infatuated  ; she  did  a 
cruel  wrong  to  herself  and  to  the  innocent  children  who 
where  subsequently  born  to  her,  but  now  she  believes  that 
Dame  Fortune  is  going  to  turn  the  tables  again,  and  Hetty 
is  to  step  back  into  such  a place  as  might  have  been  her 
birthright  but  for  her  mother’s  folly. 

This  is  what  Mrs.  Hamblin  has  hoped  for,  prayed  for,  and 
dreamed  about  for  so  many  long  years  ; and,  as  she  listens 
to  Lord  Claude  Irongate,  she  does  not  doubt  his  sincerity, 
still  less  does  she  question  that  Hetty’s  happiness  will  be 
secured  by  accepting  the  brilliant  destiny  which  he  prom- 
ises to  offer  her. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Meanwhile  Hetty  has  executed  her  mother’s  commis- 
sions in  Colneford,  and  instead  of  returning  home  by  the 
dusty  high-road  she  makes  her  way  to  the  bank  of  the 
winding  river,  along  which,  for  a considerable  distance,  is 
a footpath,  shaded  by  tall  trees. 

It  is  very  pleasant  walking  here,  particularly  as  she  is 
alone. 

The  river  looks  so  deep  and  calm  and  peaceful ; the 
country  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream  rises  gently  in 
low  hills,  until  far  away  in  the  distance  the  trees  seem  to 
stand  on  tiptoe  to  touch  the  sky. 

On  the  side  of  the  river  along  which  Hetty  is  walking 
there  are  fields  and  pasture  lands,  but  Hetty  observes  that 
the  cows  have  been  driven  home,  and  she  judges  from  that 
circumstance  alone  that  it  is  later  than  she  supposed,  and 
she  begins  to  quicken  her  pace. 

This  is  a public  path,  but  Hetty  has  only  met  a few 
women  carrying  baskets,  on  their  way  to  town,  until,  after 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 79 

getting  over  a stile,  she  sees  a man,  some  little  distance 
ahead,  but  coming  toward  her. 

If  she  had  not  been  so  terribly  frightened  a couple  of 
weeks  ago  by  Lord  Claude  Irongate,  she  would  think 
nothing  of  meeting  a stranger,  but  though  it  is  not  his 
lordship  who  is  approaching  her  she  does  feel  timid,  and 
she  walks  slowly  and  hesitates,  more  than  half  inclined  to 
turn  back. 

This  inclination  to  fly  becomes  greater  when  something 
in  the  tall  figure  that  is  approaching  strikes  her  as  familiar 
and,  almost  simultaneously,  she  recognizes  him  as  Mr. 
Gilbert  Tavenner. 

Why  does  Hetty’s  foolish  little  heart  flutter  as  she  realizes 
that  she  is  momentarily  coming  nearer  to  the  man  who  has 
always  treated  her  with  marked  kindness  and  deference  ? 

She  is  not  afraid  of  him  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
word  ; if  she  were  compelled  by  any  extraordinary  circum- 
stance to  place  her  trust  in  any  man,  not  connected  with 
her  by  the  ties  of  kindred,  she  would  choose  this  one  of  all 
others,  feeling  no  doubt  that  he  would  alike  respect  her 
innocence  and  her  helplessness.  And  yet,  she  fears  to 
meet  him. 

Her  heart  beats  wildly  and  in  a most  unruly  fashion  ; her 
frame  quivers,  and  a warm,  bright  blush  dyes  her  cheeks 
and  heightens  her  beauty,  as  Mr.  Tavenner’s  face  also 
changes  when  he  quickens  his  pace  to  meet  her. 

Any  third  person  looking  at  the  eager  light  in  the  young 
man’s  eyes,  at  the  blushing  cheeks  and  downcast  eyes  of  the 
timid  girl,  would  read  the  secret  which,  if  spoken  in  words, 
would  startle  both  of  them,  possibly  to  the  extent  of  an 
indignant  denial. 

But  there  the  feeling  is,  unrealized  as  yet  by  either, 
though  Hetty  is  conscious  that  there  is  something  wrong 
somewhere  when  Mr.  Tavenner  takes  her  hand  in  his  own, 
as  though  she  were  a lady  friend,  and  asks  after  her  health 
with  quite  unnecessary  solicitude. 

0 


80 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

If  you  could  transport  them  to  the  wilds  of  Africa  or  to 
some  primitive  island  in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  where  wealth 
and  rank  and  high  birth  count  for  nothing,  the  superior 
position  would  be  on  the  girl’s  side,  and  her  youth  and 
beauty  would  count  for  more  than  the  man  could  offer 
unless  she  loved  him. 

But  here  in  England,  where  we  say  — though  few  believe 
— that 

“ Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets ; 

And  simple  faith,  than  Norman  blood.” 

things  are  reckoned  differently,  and  any  one  knowing  the 
respective  positions  of  the  man  and  girl,  and  seeing  that 
hand-shake,  would  draw  conclusions,  unjust  no  doubt,  but 
decidedly  unflattering  to  both  of  them. 

Hetty  feels  this  rather  than  knows  it,  and  she  withdraws 
her  hand  quickly  from  the  warm  clasp,  and  replies, 
meekly : 

“I  am  quite  well,  thank  you,  sir.” 

“ Where  are  you  going  ? ” he  asks,  slightly  sobered  by  her 
tone,  but  unwilling  to  part  with  her. 

“ I am  going  home,”  she  replies.  “I  have  been  to  Colne- 
ford  for  my  mother,  and  this  path  is  so  much  more  pleasant 
than  the  dusty  roads.” 

“Quite  true,”  he  answers,  gently;  “it  is  so  pleasant  that 
I came  down  here  for  a stroll.  But  I will  turn  and  walk 
with  you — at  any  rate,  part  of  the  way.” 

He  adds  this,  as  she  makes  a sign  of  disapprobation,  but 
Hetty  says,  resolutely : 

“ Don’t  think  me  rude  or  ungrateful,  sir,  in  asking  you 
not  to  come  any  farther  with  me ; but  people  will  make 
unkind  remarks,  and  my  mother  has  always  taught  me  not 
only  to  do  what  is  right,  but  to  avoid  even  the  appearance 
of  evil.” 

“Your  mother  is  a wise  woman,”  he  says,  with  a regret- 
ful sigh,  “though  I doubt  if  she  has  always  been  so,”  he 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 81 

adds,  with  a bitter  laugh.  “However,  I must  obey  you, 
since  you  wish  it.  Good-day.” 

He  lifts  his  hat  as  he  speaks,  and  passes  on ; and  Hetty, 
bowing  her  head,  but  with  a strong  desire  in  her  heart  to 
call  him  back,  walks  on  with  the  consciousness  that  she  is 
doing  right,  however  thorny  and  rugged  the  path  of  duty 
may  be. 

But  she  has  not  proceeded  a dozen  footsteps  before  a ter- 
rifying sound  falls  upon  her  ears. 

The  low,  deep,  angry  bellow  of  an  infuriated  bull,  and 
she  looks  round  in  wild  alarm,  and  perceives  that  Mr.  Ta- 
vernier has  likewise  turned,  and  in  a few  bounds  has  gained 
her  side. 

“ Quick,  quick  for  your  life  ! ” he  cries,  clasping  her 
hand  and  running  in  the  direction  of  an  oak  tree,  which 
stands  by  a hedge  on  the  farther  side  of  the  field. 

Hand  in  hand  the  man  and  the  girl  run  at  their  utmost 
speed. 

They  have  not  far  to  go  ; a few  minutes  will  do  it  all,  but 
those  minutes  mean  life  or  death  to  both  of  them. 

For  the  bull,  which  had  escaped  from  the  town,  it  being 
market  day,  having  done  considerable  damage  in  its  course, 
had  broken  through  a hedge  into  this  field,  and  now, 
catching  sight  of  Tavenner  and  Hetty,  he  makes  straight 
toward  them. 

His  tail  is  high  in  the  air,  his  eyes  look  like  balls  of  fire, 
his  rage  is  manifested  in  his  snorting  nostrils,  in  his  angry 
roar,  and  to  every  living  creature  that  comes  in  sight  he  is 
ready  to  manifest  his  enmity. 

The  race  between  the  man  and  the  girl  on  the  one  hand 
and  the  bull  on  the  other  is  an  unequal  one  ! 

Alone,  Tavenner  might  easily  escape,  but  though  Hetty's 
feet  are  winged  with  fear  the  savage  animal  gains  upon 
them.  They  seem  to  hear  his  snorting  in  their  ears,  they 
feel  that  every  moment  may  be  their  last,  and  still  the  tree. 


82  FOILED  BY  LOVF. 

in  the  branches  of  which  they  would  seek  shelter,  is  several 
yards  ahead. 

Never  so  long  as  they  live  will  these  fearful  moments, 
fraught  with  such  deadly  terror,  be  forgotten  ! 

The  snorting,  bellowing  monster  is  close  upon  them. 
Three  seconds  more  and  one  or  both  would  be  flung  high  in 
the  air,  or  gored  to  death,  when  the  welcome  sound  of  a 
dog's  bark  falls  upon  their  ears.  The  bull's  course  is 
arrested,  his  fury  is  diverted,  and  in  the  moments  thus 
gained  the  tree  is  reached.  Hetty  is  helped  into  the 
branches,  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  swings  himself  lightly  up 
after  her  ! 

But  poor  Bob,  Tavenner's  bull  terrier,  has  paid  the  pen- 
alty of  his  life  for  fastening  upon  the  bull's  leg.  The  latter 
has  rolled  over  upon  him,  tossed  him  in  the  air,  beaten  with 
his  four  feet  upon  his  mangled  corpse  ; then,  his  appetite  for 
slaughter  increased  by  this  victory,  he  rushes  forward, 
regardless  of  pain  to  himself,  and  butts  with  all  his  mighty 
strength  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  in  the  branches  of 
which  Tavenner  and  Hetty  have  taken  refuge. 

“Holdfast!”  cries  Tavenner,  clasping  his  arm  around 
the  girl's  waist;  and  but  for  this  timely  protection  Hetty 
would  have  fallen  and  have  shared  the  tragic  fate  of  poor 
Bob. 

Facing  death  together,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  social 
barriers  that  should  divide  these  two  are  for  the  time  forgot- 
ten by  both  of  them,  and  Tavenner  keeps  his  hold  of  the 
girl's  waist,  tenderly  but  firmly,  wTiile  she,  in  her  terror, 
buries  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

Meanwhile,  the  bull  after  butting  against  the  tree  again 
and  again,  and  finding  that  he  cannot  dislodge  those  who 
have  taken  refuge  in  its  branches,  tears  up  the  ground  with 
his  hoofs;  and  finally,  as  though  resolved  not  to  be  cheated 
of  his  prey,  he  lies  down  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  waiting 
for  those  who  are  on  it  to  descend. 

“ My  poor  child  ! ” says  Tavenner,  tenderly,  looking  with 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


83 


unspoken  admiration  upon  the  lovely  head  which  rests  so 
confidingly  upon  his  breast. 

She  looks  up  to  him  as  he  speaks,  and  he  perceives  that, 
though  her  cheeks  are  pale  with  terror,  there  is  an  expres- 
sion of  love  and  trustfulness  in  her  eyes  that  sends  the 
warm  blood  coursing  madly  through  his  veins;  and  Hetty 
will  never  be  able  to  appreciate  the  effort  it  costs  him  to 
refrain  from  kissing  her  sweet  lips,  and  telling  her  how 
fondly  he  loves  her. 

But  there  are  many  and  manifold  reasons  why  he  should 
not  do  anything  so  insane. 

First  of  all,  there  is  his  engagement  to  Lady  Daphne 
Irongate,  an  engagement  arranged  by  his  mother  rather 
than  by  himself. 

And  then,  if  by  any  lucky  chance  this  engagement  were 
to  be  broken  by  Lady  Daphne  in  a fit  of  temper,  there  still 
remains  a foolish  promise  which  his  mother  extorted  from 
him  on  his  coming  of  age,  and  by  which  he  bound  himself 
by  an  oath  never  to  marry  a woman  who  is  not  of  gentle 
birth. 

Strangely  enough,  since  he  has  known  Hetty  this  last 
promise  has  weighed  upon  him  more  heavily  than  his  engage- 
ment, and  he  bitterly  regrets  his  weakness  in  yielding 
to  his  mother^  whims  and  prejudices  in  a matter  which 
his  own  happiness,  and  not  hers,  is  concerned. 

But  the  memory  of  this  promise,  the  ties  of  honor  which 
bind  him  to  another  woman,  are  pressing  heavily  upon  his 
mind  now,  and  they  strengthen  him  to  resist  the  sweet 
temptation  that  for  safety^s  sake  is  nestling  in  his  arm. 

Even  for  this  close  proximity,  he  finds  it  necessary  for 
himself,  and  for  her,  to  make  some  excuse,  and  he  says, 
gently: 

“ I must  hold  you  tight  or  you  would  fall,  but  that  mon- 
ster cannot  stay  there  long  surely;  he  will  be  missed,  or 
somebody  else  will  attract  his  attention,  and  then  we  shall 
be  able  to  get  away.” 


84 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“Yes,”  assents  Hetty,  “I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  get 
away  soon ; my  mother  will  be  very  anxious  about  me, 
and  ” 

Then  she  comes  to  a sudden  pause. 

The  memory  of  Lord  Claude's  sneering  remark  that  she 
and  Tavenner  have  made  the  most  of  his  absence  recurs  to 
her  mind,  and  she  knows  that  he,  and  other  people  too,  will 
be  very  likely  to  say  spiteful  and  injurious  things  about  her 
and  Mr.  Tavenner  happening  to  be  together  when  the  bull 
thus  made  them  practically  his  prisoners. 

Mr.  Tavenner  does  not  ask  what  she  was  about  to  say,  but 
presently  he  remarks,  gravely: 

“ If  you  can  get  away  without  being  recognized,  when  the 
siege  is  raised,  I would  do  so  if  I were  you,  and  would  say 
nothing  about  it  when  you  get  home.  Ah!  here  our  reliev- 
ing army  comes!  ” 

And  as  he  speaks,  at  the  most  distant  corner  of  the  field, 
at  .the  same  gap  through  which  the  bull  forced  his  way,  a 
party  of  men  appear,  some  of  them  on  horseback,  while  a 
couple  carry  lassoes  in  their  hands,  ready  to  capture  the  bull 
the  moment  they  can  get  near  enough  to  do  so. 

But  the  monster  is  not  afraid!  He  recognizes  his  foes! 
With  a bound  and  a roar  he  springs  to  his  feet,  and,  snort- 
ing defiance  and  bellowing  forth  his  rage,  he  sets  off  at  full 
speed  to  meet  his  old  enemies! 

“Now  is  your  time,”  says  Tavenner,  promptly,  “let  me 
help  you  down.  There,  don't  be  frightened ; put  your  arm 
round  my  neck,  so  that  I can  lift  you.  That  is  right.  Poor 
child,  how  you  are  trembling!” 

“The  bull — is  he  near?”  asks  Hetty,  nervously. 

Tavenner  looks  over  the  hedge,  and  answers,  promptly: 

“No,  he  is  better  engaged  than  in  looking  after  us.  I 
think  they  will  have  to  shoot  him ; but  he  can't  see  you  — 
we  are  on  the  right  side  of  the  hedge  this  time.  Now, 
make  haste  home.  Good-by ; I must  look  after  my  poor 
dog.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  85 

He  kisses  her  hand  ; that  small  gratification  he  cannot 
deny  himself. 

Then,  without  a word,  she  speeds  away,  and  does  not 
slacken  her  pace  until  she  comes  within  sight  of  Stanmoor. 

She  looks  pale  and  tired  when  she  enters  the  sitting-room, 
in  which  she  finds  her  mother  alone,  with  tea-things  upon 
the  table  as  though  awaiting  her  return. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  greets  her  daughter  with  affection. 

“ You  look  tired,  my  dear.  I ought  not  toTiave  sent  you 
so  far,  and  the  day  is  exceptionally  hot.  But  you  shall 
have  a cup  of  tea,  and  then  I have  some  news  for  you.” 

“News  ! ” repeats  the  girl,  listlessly.  “I  hope  it  is  good 
news  ! ” 

“It  is  very  good  news,”  is  the  emphatic  reply. 

But  still  Hetty’s  interest  is  not  excited  ; she  can  think  of 
nothing  but  the  infuriated  bull,  waiting  to  gore  and  trample 
her  to  death,  as  he  stamped  out  the  life  of  the  poor  dog, 
whose  interference  had  saved  her. 

Yes,  Hetty  thinks  with  terror  of  the  bull.  She  thinks 
also  of  the  kind,  strong  arms  that  held  her  so  tenderly  ; 
and  her  heart  throbs  as  she  remembers  how  he  kissed  her 
hand  at  parting,  as  humbly  and  respectfully  as  though  he 
had  been  a knight  of  old  and  she  a maiden  of  high  degree. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  any  news  her  mother  can  tell 
her  should  seem  flat  and  insipid  compared  with  the  tale  she 
could  herself  unfold  ? And  she  has  drank  half  a cup  of  tea, 
and  is  leaning  back  in  her  chair  with  her  eyes  closed  — lost 
in  sweet  dreams  — unheeding  her  mother’s  words,  when  the 
mention  of  a name  startles  her  out  of  her  reverie,  and  she 
looks  up  suddenly,  asking,  with  startling  directness  : 

“ Lord  Claude  been  here  to  tea  with  you,  mother  ? Why 
did  he  come  ? He  had  some  motive  in  it,  you  may  be  sure.” 

“He  came  to  talk  about  you,  Hetty,”  says  the  proud 
mother,  her  face  beaming  with  the  glad  news  of  which  she 
is  the  bearer, 


86 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“Of  me  !”  repeats  the  girl,  contracting  her  brows  into  a 
frown. 

“Of  you,  my  dear,”  repeated  her  mother,  with  growing 
importance.  “ He  admires  you  greatly  ! ” 

Mrs.  Hamblin  pauses  to  enable  her  daughter  to  think  for 
a moment  of  the  happiness  of  being  loved  and  admired  by 
such  a man  as  his  lordship.  She  is  not  a little  startled, 
therefore,  when  Hetty  tosses  her  beautiful  head  indignantly, 
and  says,  with  cutting  sarcasm  : 

“Yes,  and  a very  unpleasant  way  he  has  of  showing  his 
admiration  ! ” 

“ How  — what  do  you  mean  ? ” demands  her  mother,  in 
sudden  alarm. 

Then,  as  Hetty  is  about  to  leave  the  room,  she  exclaims, 
in  a tone  of  authority  : 

“ I insist  upon  knowing  what  you  mean  ? ” 

“ He  tried  to  kiss  me  ! ” replies  Hetty,  her  face  flaming 
with  modest  shame  as  she  remembers  the  incident. 

“And  you,”  asks  her  mother,  with  a smile  that  exasper- 
ates the  girls,  “ what  did  you  do  ? ” 

“I  ran  across  the  weir  in  Brent  Wood,  at  the  risk  of  my 
life,  to  escape  him,”  is  the  answer. 

“A  foolish  thing  to  do,”  says  Mrs.  Hamblin,  gravely, 
“particularly  as  Lord  Claude  wishes  to  marry  you  as  soon 
as  he  is  able  to  do  so.” 

“ I don't  wish  to  marry  him,  and  I never  will  if  I can 
help  it ! ” asserts  Hetty,  passionately. 

“But  you  will  not  be  able  to  help  it,”  asserts  her  mother, 
emphatically. 

And  Hetty  waits  to  hear  no  more. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Derby  has  been  lost  and  won,  and  Lord  Claude  Iron-, 
gate's  Paris,  ridden  by  Chris  Hamblin,  is  the  victor. 

The  news  reaches  Stanmoor  on  the  evening  of  the  great 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


87 


race ; it  is  telegraphed  to  Mrs.  Hamblin  by  her  husband, 
who  is,  as  the  wording  of  the  message  testifies,  in  a condi- 
tion of  unbounded  delight  and  excitement  at  the  result. 

Hetty  reads  the  telegram  with  pleasure,  for  she  knows 
that  her  brother  would  have  been  so  terribly  cast  down  had 
he  failed ; her  father,  too,  would  have  been  wretched  if 
Paris  had  come  in  second  or  third,  and  she  is  conscious,  also, 
that  this  satisfactory  result  will  add  greatly  to  their  material 
comfort,  and  will  not  make  her  father  and  brother  so  de- 
pendent upon  Lord  Claudels  whims  as  they  have  recently 
been. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  treats  the  good  news  with  indifference; 
her  ambition  has  taken  higher  flights  than  the  winning  of  a 
few  hundreds  of  pounds  upon  a race,  and  it  is  only  when 
she  reflects  that  Lord  Claude  will  be  the  richer  for  her  son’s 
success  that  she  takes  any  pleasure  in  thinking  of  it. 

There  is  very  little  conversation  between  Hetty  and  her 
mother  during  this  week  in  which  such  great  events  are 
taking  place  in  racing  circles. 

These  two,  between  whom  there  has  never  hitherto  been 
a difference  of  opinion,  are  now  divided  upon  one  vital  sub- 
ject, upon  which  both  of  them  are  equally  determined  not 
to  yield. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  has  tried  entreaties  and  persuasion,  has 
expatiated  largely,  upon  the  folly  of  her  own  marriage,  has 
pointed  out  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  her  daugh- 
ters union  with  Lord  Claude  Irongate,  and  to  all  that  she 
can  say  Hetty’s  answer,  though  couched  in  different  words, 
is  practically  the  same. 

“I  positively  dislike  him,  mother;  I would  rather  be 
buried  than  be  married  to  him.” 

These  words  puzzle  the  mother,  but  several  days  pass  by 
before  it  suddenly  flashes  across  her  mind  that  Hetty’s  aver- 
sion to  Lord  Claude  may  possibly  be  occasioned  by  her 
preference  for  somebody  else. 

The  idea  seems  to  her  preposterous,  remembering  how 


FOILED  BY  LOVE, 


very  limited  is  the  circle  of  their  acquaintances  ; but  she 
can  think  of  no  other  reason  for  her  daughter’s  obstinacy, 
and,  repugnant  as  such  a step  is  to  her  feelings,  she  resolves 
to  tax  Hetty  with  having  some  secret  lover. 

But  of  whom  can  she  speak ; there  is  nobody,  to  her 
knowledge,  except  Jem  Blake,  their  former  lodger,  who  has 
shown  the  least  admiration  for  Hetty,  and  it  does  seem  to 
her  incredible  that  her  daughter  should  be  more  foolish  in 
her  choice  of  a husband  than  she  was  herself. 

Since  that  day  when  Hetty  escaped  from  the  bull  and 
was  met  by  her  mother  with  the  startling  news  that  Lord 
Claude  wished  to  marry  her,  the  fair  girl  has  been  very 
careful  not  to  go  outside  the  gardens  belonging  to  Stan- 
moor,  and  she  has  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time  shut  her- 
self up  in  her  own  room,  and  worked  industriously  at  her 
painting  and  drawing. 

In  thus  isolating  herself,  she  tries  to  drive  away  thoughts 
that  come  unbidden  into  her  mind,  and  likewise  to  forget 
the  irritation  which  she  feels  when  her  mother  so  persist- 
ently urges  the  suit  of  Lord  Claude  Irongate. 

But  her  success  in  this  effort  to  concentrate  her  mind 
upon  her  work  is  not  great,  and  again  and  again  she  finds 
herself  sitting  idle,  her  thoughts  having  wandered  away 
into  dreamland. 

It  is  in  this  condition  that  her  mother  finds  her,  on  this 
particular  afternoon  on  which  Joe  Hamblin  is  to  return  to 
Stanmoor. 

The  mother’s  jealous  eyes  observe  that  the  portrait  of 
Nestor  is  finished,  and  that  her  daughter  has  before  her  an 
unfinished  sketch  of  Floss,  a small  Maltese  dog,  that  was 
given  to  her  when  they  left  London  by  Jem  Blake. 

At  any  other  time  Mrs.  Hamblin  would  have  been  sur- 
prised at  the  talent  shown  in  the  sketch,  an  amount  of 
artistic  talent  for  which  she  does  not  give  her  daughter 
credit ; but  now  she  is  thinking  only  of  what  she  can  say  or 
do  to  make  her  daughter  receive  Lord  Claude  graciously 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  89 

when  he  comes  again,  as  he  is  pretty  sure  to  do  in  a day  or 
two. 

“ So,  that  is  your  secret,  is  it  ? ” she  asks  angrily,  as  she 
glances  at  the  easel ; and  Hetty  looks  about  her  quickly  and 
nervously,  fearing  that  in  some  unguarded  moment  she  may 
have  written  down  the  name  of  Gilbert  Tavenner,  or  have 
tried  to  make  a rough  portrait  of  a face  which  is  ever  pres- 
ent to  her  mental  vision. 

When,  however,  she  understands  that  it  is  the  sketch  of 
Floss  that  her  mother  is  speaking  of,  she  smiles,  and 
answers  lightly : 

“ There  is  no  secret  here,  mother ; you  said  I could  not 
draw  dogs,  that  I had  only  a knack  for  drawing  horses,  and 
I thought  I would  just  try  if  I really  could  not  do  it.” 

“ Are  you  making  that  sketch  for  Jem  Blake  ?”  asks  the 
mother,  sharply. 

“For  Jem  Blake  ! ” repeats  the  girl,  in  amazement.  “No  ; 
why  should  you  think  I am  doing  it  for  him  ? ” 

“He  gave  you  the  dog,”  is  the  laconic  reply. 

“So  he  did  ; but  I had  quite  forgotten  it,”  returns  Hetty, 
with  a frank  smile. 

“And  the  fellow  is  always  hanging  about  after  you,”  con- 
tinues her  mother,  as  though  making  an  accusation. 

“Yes,  he  is  ; and  it  is  very  unpleasant,”  says  Hetty,  with 
a troubled  countenance.  “ I avoid  him  as  much  as  pos- 
sible,” she  continues  ; “but  lately  he  has  been  very  tiresome.” 

Then,  observing  that  her  mother's  brows  are  still  bent 
into  a frown,  she  adds  : 

“ Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  if  you  were  to  speak  to  him, 
mother  ; it  is  useless  my  doing  so.” 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  brushes  away  the  subject,  just  as  she 
would  brush  away  a fly  that  annoyed  her. 

She  sees  that  Hetty  cares  nothing  for  Jem  Blake,  there- 
fore he  has  ceased  to  interest  her ; but  she  is  come  here  to 
discover  Hetty's  secret,  if  she  has  one,  and  she  now  asks, 
pointedly : 


90 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“ About  whom  were  you  dreaming  just  now,  when  1 
entered  the  room  ? ” 

The  girl  blushes  deeply ; then  she  replies,  timidly  and 
evasively  : 

“I  was  thinking  about  Lord  Claude  a little  while  ago.” 

“ I am  glad  of  that,”  is  the  next  remark,  utte/ed  in  a tone 
that  is  still  a little  doubtful ; “ for  the  more  you  think  about 
him  the  more  you  must  like  him.” 

“ I am  not  at  all  sure  that  you  are  right  there,”  returns 
Hetty,  with  a little  laugh.  “I  remember,”  she  continues, 
“ the  first  time  I saw  him  I thought  him  wonderfully  hand- 
some and  I still  think  him  exceedingly  good-looking,  but 
for  all  that  I don't  like  him.” 

“No,  you  have  seen  some  one  whom  you  like  better,” 
asserts  Mrs.  Hamblin,  with  that  unpleasant  way  of  knock- 
ing the  right  nail  on  the  head  which  some  people  have 
when  they  choose  to  be  very  disagreeable. 

Hetty  makes  no  answer ; she  cannot  deny,  she  will  not 
admit  the  truth  of  the  accusation,  but  she  blushes  deeply 
and  the  tears  spring  to  her  eyes  with  mortification  and  a 
sense  of  injustice — signs  which  her  mother  is  quick  to  per- 
ceive — and  she  asks,  authoritatively  : 

“ Who  is  it  ? I insist  upon  knowing  ! ” 

“I  cannot  tell  you,  mother,”  replies  Hetty,  quietly  but 
firmly;  “but  I like  almost  everybody  I know  better  than 
Lord*Claude.” 

“You  are  determined  to  be  perverse,”  cries  her  mother, 
angrily.  “You  used  t q be  so  sweet  and  gentle  and  obedient. 
1 cannot  understand  the  change  that  has  come  over  you.” 

“ Is  it  not  you  who  are  changed,  mother  ? ” asks  the  fair 
girl,  plaintively.  “You  used  to  be  so  kind  and  tender  to 
me,  used  to  think  of  my  comfort  and  happiness  in  all 
things ; and  now,  because  a man  whom  I dislike  says  he 
wishes  to  marry  me,  you  are  harsh  and  suspicious,  and  have 
not  a loving  word  or  a pleasant  smile  for  me.” 

Mrs.  Hamblin  turns  away  in  silence.  The  words  to 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


91 


which  she  has  just  listened  are  true,  her  own  conscience 
convicts  her  of  injustice  to  the  child  whom  she  loves,  and 
though  she  honestly  believes  that  the  union  upon  which  she 
has  set  her  heart  will  be  for  Hetty's  happiness,  she  feels 
that  she  has  neither  acted  kindly  nor  judiciously  in  pressing 
it  in  the  manner  she  has  done. 

But  she  is  greatly  excited ; she  is  pained  and  grieved, 
also. 

She  seems  to  feel  the  bitterness  of  her  own  social  degra- 
dation more  keenly  here  in  the  country,  where  she  some- 
times meets  those  who  might  have  been  her  equals,  than 
she  did  in  town,  where  all  the  people  with  whom  she  came  in 
contact  were  sordid,  ignorant  or  vulgar ; and  this  one  bright 
gleam  of  hope  that  had  shone  in  upon  her  darkened  life  has 
made  the  contrast  between  the  past  and  the  present  so 
great  that,  weary  and  worn  and  sick  at  heart,  she  would 
gladly  lie  down  and  die  if  she  could  only  feel  assured  that 
Hetty  would  one  day  enjoy  all  that  she  has  lost. 

The  burden  of  her  life  is  great;  during  the  past  ten  days 
she  has  made  it  greater  than  it  need  be.  But  Hetty^s 
pathetic  appeal  and  her  too  just  reproaches  have  opened 
the  flood-gates  of  her  heart,  broken  down  the  temporary 
barrier  of  her  severity,  and  she  flings  herself  on  her  knees 
by  the  side  of  a chair,  and  weeps  passionately  and  hysteric- 
ally. 

In  a moment  Hetty  is  at  her  side,  trying  to  soothe*  her, 
assuring  her  of  her  love,  praying  her  pardon  for  her 
reproaches,  promising  to  do  anything  in  her  power  to  save 
her,  anything  but  marry  that  man  who  had  once  frightened 
her  so  much  that  she  will  never  again  feel  safe  in  his 
presence. 

This  and  much  more  she  tells  her  mother,  and  Mrs. 
Hamblin  kisses  the  agitated  girl,  tells  her  that  life  would 
indeed  be  worthless  to  her  without  her  love,  assures  her 
that  she  has  only  her  happiness  at  heart,  and  finally 
entreats  her  to  put  out  of  her  mind  all  thoughts  about 


92  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

marrying  Lord  Claude  Irongate,  and  just  receive  and  meet 
him  as  a friend. 

“It  isn’t  a question  of  being  married  at  once,”  urges  the 
mother.  “ In  the  first  place,  you  are  too  young  for  any- 
thing of  the  kind  ; and  next,  his  lordship  explained  to  me 
that  he  must  not  take  a wife  until  his  sister  and  Mr. 
Tavenner  are  married.” 

If  Mrs.  Hamblin  were  not  looking  in  another  direction, 
she  would  observe  that  Hetty  starts  violently,  presses  her 
hands  upon  her  heart,  and  for  a second  or  two  struggles 
like  one  stifled  with  emotion,  and  gasps  for  breath. 

Instinctively  she  turns  her  back  upon  her  mother,  so  that 
the  latter  may  not  perceive  her  agitation,  and  a few  seconds 
elapse  before  she  asks,  with  seeming  indifference  : 

“Who  did  you  say  Lady  Daphne  is  going  to  marry  ? ” 

“ Mr.  Tavenner,  for  whom  you  have  painted  that  picture,” 
replies  Mrs.  Hamblin,  more  cheerfully.  “They  are 
engaged,  Lord  Claude  told  me,  and  I suppose  the  marriage 
will  come  off  soon,  though  I have  no  doubt  he  will  have 
cause  to  regret  it  so  long  as  he  lives.  She  is  a dreadful 
woman,  and  Lord  Claude  says,  truly  enough,  that  he  could 
not  bring  home  a wife  while  his  sister  makes  his  house  her 
home.” 

“No,  I suppose  not,”  assents  Hetty,  wearily. 

And  when  she  speaks  again  she  talks  of  her  father  and 
Chris,  allowing  it  to  be  inferred,  though  she  makes  no 
promise  on  the  subject,  that  if  Lord  Claude  Irongate  likes 
to  come  as  a friend  he  can  do  so. 

Indeed,  poor  Hetty  is  so  miserable  after  this  that  she  feels 
indifferent  to  everything. 

Every  day  since  that  afternoon  when  she  escaped  from 
the  bull  she  has  expected  Mr.  Gilbert  Tavenner  to  come  to 
Stanmoor  to  see  her. 

She  has  thought  he  would  be  anxious  to  know  how  she 
reached  home  that  day,  and  that  he  will  wonder  if  she  has 
recovered  from  her  fright ; but  he  does  not  come,  though 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


93 


he  could  make  a very  good  excuse  for  doing  so,  by  inquir- 
ing or  making  suggestions  about  the  portrait  of  old  Nestor, 
which  she  has  painted  for  him. 

How  long  to  her  have  been  those  days  in  which 

il  He  cometh  not,  she  said. 

My  heart  is  aweary,  weary ; 

I would  that  I were  dead  ! ” 

But  now  she  understands  why  he  did  not  come,  she 
knows  now  why  he  kissed  her  hand  at  parting,  instead  of 
her  blushing  cheek,  and,  in  the  acute  bitterness  of  her  fitst 
heartache,  her  keen  enjoyment  of  life  is  gone,  and  she  feels 
that  it  matters  little  or  nothing  to  her  now  whom  she  may 
marry.  J 

Her  mother,  seeing  her  thoughtful  and  dejected,  is 
conscious  that  she  has  gained  a victory,  and  she  deems  it 
prudent  to  leave  her  daughter  alone  for  awhile. 

And  when  she  has  gone,  Hetty  throws  herself  upon  the 
bed,  and  lies  there  pale  and  tearless  as  some  lovely  statue. 

But  oh,  what  mental  agony  she  suffers  ! The  agony  of 
misplaced  love,  of  cruel  disappointment,  of  bitter  humilia- 
tion, of  unending  regret  at  having  given  her  love,  unsought, 
unasked  for. 

It  is  this  latter  feeling  that  numbs  her  senses,  that  for- 
bids her  to  cry  6ut  aloud,  and  thus  find  some  relief  for 
her  pent-up  agony ; for  if  she  moans  and  sobs  and  weeps,  as 
she  might  do  for  any  other  grief,  her  mother  would  ask  the 
cause  of  her  sorrow,  her  secret  would  be  discovered,  and  she 
Would  become  an  object  of  pity  and  of  scorn  to  all  who 
know  her. 

But,  as  it  is,  her  secret  is  her  own,  locked  safely  in  her 
own  breast,  and  even  Gilbert  Tavenner  himself  cannot  sus- 
pect it. 

So  she  resolves  that  it  shall  continue  to  be ; and  after  a 
time  she  rouses  herself,  she  remembers  that  others  besides 
herself  have  had  to  learn  : 

“ How  sublime  a thing  it  is 
To  Suffer  and  be  strong/’ 


94 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


In  the  carrying  out  of  this  resolve  she  does  not  fail,,  and 
when  her  father  and  Chris  return  home  this  evening,  both 
of  them  excited  and  one  flushed  with  success,  they  neither 
of  them  observe  that  any  change  has  come  over  little  Hetty. 

If  any  one  called  their  attention  to  the  fact,  they  might 
remark  that  she  is  not  quite  so  lively  as  usual,  but  then 
they  have  so  much  to  say  themselves  that  they  rather 
appreciate  a sympathetic  listener,  and  the  subject  that 
engrosses  their  minds  is  not  exhausted  when  it  is  time  to 
return  to  rest. 

The  next  morning,  near  midday,  Hetty  is  sitting  paint- 
ing under  a tree  on  the  lawn,  with  Floss  as  her  model  on  a 
chair  a little  in  front,  when  the  dog  suddenly  begins  to 
bark,  and  looking  round  she  perceives  Lord  Claude  Iron- 
gate  approaching  with  a bouquet  of  flowers  in  his  hand. 

Had  his  visit  been  made  yesterday,  a great  trembling 
might  have  come  over  her,  or  she  might  have  hastened 
away,  declining  to  hold  any  conversation  with  him.  But 
now  she  feels  too  indifferent  about  everything  to  heed  his 
presence,  and,  while  her  dog  runs  forward  to  greet  him,  she 
turns  to  her  easel  and  continues  to  paint. 

Yet,  though  she  does  not  look  at  him,  she  is  conscious 
that  he  comes  nearer,  that  he  is  soon  close  to  her  side,  that 
the  strong  perfume  of  flowers  breathes  upon  her  senses,  and 
then  a voice  that  is  meant  to  charm  her  says,  in  a low, 
earnest  tone  : 

“ This  is  my  peace  offering ; you  will  accept  it, 
Hetty  ? ” 

“Thank  you,  my  lord,”  she  replies;  and  the  deed  is 
done. 

She  has  taken  his  flowers,  the  flowers  that  are  intended 
as  a token  that  she  will  one  day  accept  him, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


95 


CHAPTER  XI. 

We  must  return  to  Eugenie,  whom  we  left  at  the  altar  of 
Regent's  Park  church,  after  her  escape  from  her  brother  at 
the  British  Museum. 

Never  in  her  life  had  she  looked  more  handsome  than 
she  does  at  the  present  moment. 

Her  cheeks  are  flushed,  her  large,  black  eyes  are  luminous 
with  excitement  and  with  fear,  while  the  impressive  mar- 
riage ceremony,  to  which  she  listens,  and  in  which  she 
takes  her  part,  has  the  effect  of  making  her  unusually  quiet 
and  subdued. 

Trevor  regards  her  with  admiration  and  with  pardonable 
pride.  To  his  critical  taste,  her  dress  of  gray  velvet  and 
large  hat,  with  its  plume  of  gray  feathers,  is  perfect ; and, 
as  they  leave  the  church,  without  either  best  man  or  brides- 
maid to  attend  them,  he  presses  her  hand  tenderly  in  his 
own  and  whispers,  fondly: 

“My  darling  looks  beautiful  to-day!” 

She  smiles  sweetly,  but  the  noise  of  the  carriages  in  the 
street  brings  back  to  her  mind  the  terror  from  which  she 
had  fled,  and  she  murmurs,  nervously: 

“ I ran  away  from  Leon.  He  suspected  something,  and 
would  not  spare  me  from  his  sight ; he  was  going  to  make 
me  marry  Carlo  di  Castro,  and  take  me  away  to  Mexico  on 
Saturday.  This  is  one  of  my  wedding-gowns,  and  it  is  the 
only  one  I have  with  me.” 

“It  has  been  a wedding-gown  certainly,”  he  replies,  with 
a smile,  “and  a very  pretty  one  it  is,  too.  But  where  is 
this  amiable  brother  of  yours  ? Where  and  how  did  you 
leave  him  ? ” 

In  a few  brief  words  ^she  tells  him  of  her  escape,  and  he 
laughs  heartily,  as  he  pictures  Leon  — of  whom  he  has 
caught  a glimpse  — fuming  passionately  at  the  gates  of  the 
British  Museum,  trying  vainly  to  get  some  clue  concerning 
the  cab  in  which  his  sister  had  escaped, 

1 , ~ 


96 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


But,  perceiving  how  nervous  Eugenie  is  at  the  possibility 
of  again  meeting  her  brother,  he  says,  reassuringly  : 

“Don’t  be  alarmed ; you  are  my  property  now,  not  his. 
What  you  have  told  me  need  not  interfere  with  the  arrange- 
ments I have  made.  Here,  step  into,  this  cab.” 

And  he  helps  her  into  a hansom,  seats  himself  by  her 
side,  and  gives  the  order  : 

“Great  Western  Bailway  Hotel.” 

“ This  seems  like  a dream,  from  which  I shall  wake  up 
and  find  Leon  and  Di  Castro  waiting  for  me,”  whispers 
Eugenie,  looking  at  her  newly-made  husband  with  adoring 
eyes. 

“You  will  soon  get  oyer  that,  my  dear,”  he  replies,  with 
a smile.  “ I had  meant  to  stay  in  town  to-night  and  start 
for  Somerset  to-morrow ; but,  under  the  circumstances,  I 
think  we  had  better  leave  London  this  afternoon.  We  will 
have  some  luncheon,  and  then  I’ll  see  about  the  trains.” 
“But  I have  no  clothes  with  me!”  she  cries,  in  dismay. 
“ I have  nothing  but  what  I have  on,  and  oh,  I have  some 
lovely  gowns  at  home,  if  Leon  would  only  let  me  have 
them!  ” 

“ We  won’t  trouble  Leon  for  your  dresses^my  dear,”  replies 
Trevor,  smiling  at  her  distress;  “you  can  make  out  a list 
of  things  that  you  need  immediately,  and  a messenger  can 
fetch  them  while  we  have  luncheon.  But  here  we  are!  ” 

A few  minutes  later,  and  they  are  in  the  hotel,  and  the 
moment  they  are  alone  Eugenie  throws  herself  into  Trevor’s 
arms,  murmuring,  joyfully: 

“My  husband — my  own  real  husband!  ” 

He  embraces  her  warmly,  tells  her  she  is  a dear,  sweet, 
little  pet,  and  treats  her  rather  like  a spoilt  child  than  as  a 
grown-up  woman,  who  is  to  be  his  companion  and  helpmate 
through  life. 

But  Eugenie  does  not  notice  this ; she  is  so  supremely 
happy  that  it  would  be  a rude  shock  indeed  that  could 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 07 

awaken  her  from  her  dream  of  bliss,  or  rouse  in  her  heart 
a feeling  of  discontent. 

Later  on,  she  is  delighted  with  Trevor’s  liberality  when 
he  makes  her  return  her  purse  to  her  pocket  and  sends  a 
messenger  to  order  an  imperial  from  a trunk  shop  and 
numerous  articles  of  clothing  from  a well-known  draper’s, 
not  half  a mile  distant. 

“ I am  costing  you  a lot  of  money  to  begin  with,”  she 
says,  timidly  and  shyly. 

But  he  answers,  with  an  amused  laugh: 

“ It  is  nothing,  my  dear.  I am  not  a poor  man  ; that  is,”' 
he  adds,  correcting  himself,  “ not  what  some  people  would 
call  poor.” 

“Then,  don’t  you  paint  pictures  for  a living ?”  she  asks, 
in  surprise. 

“ Well,  not  exactly,”  he  answers,  evasively.  “ Of  course,  I 
like  to  sell  my  pictures  if  I can  get  a good  price ; but  I 
have  something  to  live  upon  besides  what  I can  earn.  If  it 
had  not  been  so,  I should  not  have  dared  to  marry  you  this 
morning.  ” 

“And  if  you  had  been  poor,  I should  have  been  left  with 
Leon  and  given  to  Di  Castro,”  she  says,  with  a shudder. 
“Oh,  I can  bless  your  wealth  because  it  has  saved  me  ! ” 

“You  must  not  call  it  wealth,”  he  says,  gently.  “I  did 
not  say  I was  rich ; but  I am  not  poor,  and  there  is  no 
necessity  for  you  to  deny  yourself  anything  in  reason.  But 
now  I will  go  into  the  station  and  inquire  about  the  trains, 
while  you  make  your  selection  from  the  piles  of  clothing 
the  messenger  has  brought.  Pay  for  the  things  out  of 
these  notes.” 

And  he  places  two  bank-notes,  each  for  twenty  pounds, 
in  her  hands ; then  kisses  her,  and  leaves  her  to  look  over 
the  contents  of  the  cardboard  boxes,  which  the  messenger 
and  the  draper’s  assistant  have  brought  for  her  inspection. 

The  selection  does  not  take  as  long  as  Trevor  anticipated  ; 
but  when  she  .hands  one  of  the  bank-notes  as  payment  her 


98 


FOILED  BY  LOVE, 


husbands  name  is  asked,,  and,  to  be  able  to  give  it  correctly, 
she  takes  from  her  pocket  the  copy  of  the  certificate  of 
marriage  which  the  clergyman  had  given  her  a couple  of 
hours  ago,  with  the  smiling  remark,  “That  is  your  prop- 
erty, madam.” 

When  the  name  is  written  upon  the  back  of  the  note, 
and  the  assistant  and  messenger  are  both  dismissed, 
Eugenie  read  over  to  herself  the  copy  of  the  certificate, 
the  sight  of  which  had  made  the  two  persons,  to  whom  she 
had  so  innocently  shown  it,  regard  her  with  increased 
interest. 

“It  is  a strange  document,”  she  muses.  “I  never  saw  a 
certificate  of  marriage  before  this  one.  I wonder  what 
Leon  would  say  to  it?  ” 

The  wonder  grows  in  her  mind  the  longer  she  looks  at 
the  paper. 

Added  to  this  comes  the  memory  of  love  and  kindness 
from  her  brother,  and  the  feeling  that  it  is  due  to  him,  at 
least,  to  know  what  has  become  of  her  ; but  she  dare  not 
write  to  him,  dare  not  send  any  one  to  tell  him  ; when  sud- 
denly it  occurs  to  her  mind  that,  if  she  posts  this  certifi- 
cate to  him,  it  will  prove  to  his  satisfaction  that  she  is 
honorably  married,  and  free  from  his  control. 

The  clergyman  told  her  that  this  paper  was  her  own 
property.  If  it  is  her  own  she  can  do  what  she  likes  with  it. 

Her  sending  it  to  Leon  will  stop  pursuit,  will  stop  all 
inquiries,  and  he  and  his  confederates  will  be  glad  to  leave 
her  in  England,  to  her  English  husband. 

So  she  reasons,  rapidly,  as  is  her  wont;  then  she  takes  an 
envelope,  incloses  the  certificate  without  a word,  addresses 
and  stamps  it,  then  drops  it  into  the  letter-box,  which  she 
had  observed  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel. 

Ten  minutes  more  elapse  before  Laurence  Trevor  returns,  • 
and  during  this  interval  the  letter-box  is  cleared  out,  its 
contents  are  carried  away,  and  the  certificate  is  gone  beyond 
her  control. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


99 


When  regret  is  useless  Eugenie  would  reclaim  the  certifi- 
cate if  it  were  possible. 

She  doubts  whether  Laurence  would  approve  of  the  step 
she  has  taken,  and  these  doubts  merge  into  certainty  when 
she  remembers  how  he  has  steadily  ignored  the  claims  which 
her  brother  may  have  upon  her  obedience  or  her  considera- 
tion. 

Laurence’s  first  remark  on  his  return  confirms  her  in  this 
view,  for  he  says,  carelessly  : 

“It  would  be  more  pleasant  to  put  off  our  journey  till 
to-morrow,  but  that  brother  of  yours  might  trace  us  and 
make  a scene,  which  must  be  avoided  at  all  hazards,  so  I 
think  we  had  better  catch  the  four  o’clock  train.” 

“Oh,  yes;  let  us  catch  it,”  she  replies,  nervously,  and 
she  mentally  resolves  to  say  she  has  lost  the  certificate  if  she 
is  ever  questioned  by  Laurence  about  it. 

She  is  the  more  able  to  do  this  because,  at  the  railway 
station,  one  of  the  light-fingered  gentry  picks  her  pocket 
while  she  is  standing  on  the  platform,  and  when  she  discov- 
ers that  her  purse  and  handkerchief  are  gone  Trevor’s  first 
question  is  about  the  certificate. 

“ Yes,  I put  it  in  this  pocket,”  she  replies,  nervously, 
“and  there  is  nothing  left,  it  is  quite  empty.  See.” 

“What  a nuisance!”  growls  the  bridegroom.  “One 
doesn’t  know  into  whose  hands  it  may  have  fallen.” 

“No,  but  we  can  get  another,”  returns  the  bride, 
promptly;  “it  was  but  a copy,  you  know.  I remember 
thinking  how  silly  it  is  in  novels  for  a writer  to  pretend 
that,  because  the  copy  of  the  certificate  is  lost,  the  marriage 
cannot  be  proved.  Leon  told  me  you  can  always  get  a copy 
of  a marriage  certificate  at  Somerset  House,  if  you  like  to 
pay  for  it.” 

“You  and  Leon  seem  to  have  discussed  the  matter  very 
fully,”  retorts  Trevor,  in  an  unpleasant  tone. 

“ Yes,  but  it  has  been  apropos  of  novels,”  she  explains, 
sweetly. 


100 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

And  he  smiles  and  kisses  her,  muttering  moodily  to 
himself : 

“Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.” 

The  train  which  carries  them  away  from  London  is  a 
swift  one,  but  when  they  alight  a long  carriage  drive 
follows,  and  it  has  been  dark  for  a couple  of  hours  before 
they  pull  up  before  a pretty,  detached  house,  standing  in 
its  own  grounds,  which  are  picturesque  rather  than  exten- 
sive. 

Very  little  of  this  can  be  seen  at  night,  but  when  the  hall 
door  is  thrown  open  to  receive  them  Eugenie  perceives  that 
the  interior  of  the  house  is  fitted  up  with  elegance  and 
comfort,  while  the  blending  of  colors  and  the  arrangement 
of  the  handsome  furniture  denote  clearly  enough  that  it  is 
the  home  of  an  artist. 

“ How  exquisite ! ” exclaims  Eugenie,  clasping  her 
hands  and  looking  round  the  pretty  drawing-room,  lighted 
with  rose-colored  lamps,  which  throw  a soft,  warm  glow 
around!  “Is  this  your  home,  dearest  ?” 

“It  will  be  our  home,  my  dear,  for  a time,”  replies 
Trevor,  evasively ; “ and  it  is  possible  that  I may  buy  it. 
But  I am  hungry,  so  take  off  your  hat  and  let  us-  have 
dinner.” 

Eugenie  obeys,  but  every  room  she  enters  in  this  house 
delights  her  more  and  more ; she  feels  that  every  hour  on  this 
eventful  day  new  and  pleasant  surprises  are  coming  to  her, 
and  when,  on  the  following  morning,  she  goes  over  the 
house  and  garden  by  daylight,  she  is  more  delighted  than 
ever  with  her  new  abode. 

Trevor  is  amused  at  her  childish  frankness ; she  has 
developed  new  charms,  of  which  he  was  previously  ignor- 
ant ; she  is  a fair  musician,  she  sings  divinely,  she  paints 
well,  and  she  can  drive  the  pair  of  spirited  ponies  which 
he  buys  for  her  with  a masterly  hand. 

So  a month  passes  by,  a month  of  unalloyed  bliss  to 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


101 


Eugenie,  who  fondly  believes  that  her  whole  life  is  to  be 
spent  in  this  delightful  fashion. 

But  Trevor  gradually  becomes  restless  and  ill  at  ease,  and 
packets  of  letters  which  are  forwarded  to  him  at  irregular 
intervals  always  increase  his  irritability. 

Eugenie,  with  the  watchfulness  of  love,  perceives  that 
something  disturbs  him,  but  she  dare  not  ask  the  cause ; 
she  can  only  fondle  and  pet  him,  and  try  to  drive  from  his 
mind  the  thoughts  that  perplex  his  soul. 

For  a time  she  succeeds  ; but  one  day,  after  receiving 
another  batch  of  letters,  he  startles  her  with  the  un- 
expected words : . 

“ I shall  have  to  go  to  town  to-morrow,  my  dear  ; I have 
put  it  off  as  long  as  I could.  You  will  be  able  to  amuse 
yourself  in  my  absence,  won't  you  ? ” 

“ Oh,  no  ! ” cries  Eugenie.  “ I cannot  stay  here  alone  ! 
Let  me  go  with  you  ! ” 

“ Impossible  ! ” he  replies,  gravely  and  with  an  inflection 
of  firmness  in  his  tones.  “ You  cannot  go  with  me  ! ” 

“ But  I shall  go  mad  if  I stay  here  alone  ! ” she  cries, 
passionately  and  bursting  into  tears.  “ I shall  sit  and  think 
and  think  till  my  brain  will  go ; and  I shall  expect  every 
time  the  door  opens  that  my  brother  and  Di  Castro  will 
walk  in  and  drag  me  away  to  Mexico,  and  hide  me  in  some 
place  where  you  and  I could  never  meet  again  ! ” 

“ Your  brother  could  not  do  that,”  returns  Trevor,  dis- 
dainfully. “ He  would  not  dare  to  attempt  it ! ” 

“ Ah  ! you  do  not  know  Leon  de  Maestro  when  you  say 
that  there  is  anything  he  would  not  dare  to  do,”  she  moans, 
sadly. 

And  she  clasps  her  hands  upon  her  lap  and  droops  her 
head,  deep  dejection  written  in  every  line  of  her  face  and 
figure. 

This  hint  as  to  the  character  of  her  brother  has  a greater 
effect  upon  Trevor  than  all  her  pleading. 

He  contracts  his  brows,  mutters  something  between  his 


102 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


teeth  — anything  but  complimentary  to  the  Mexican  des- 
perado— and  he  finally  says,  aloud  : 

“ Your  going  with  me  to-morrow  is  impossible.  We  were 
married  in  such  a harum-scarum  fashion  that  I had  no  time 
to  attend  to  a great  many  business  matters  that  will  wait  no 
longer.  But  I will  try  to  return  at  the  end  of  a week,  or  a 
fortnight  at  latest,  and  in  the  meantime  you  can  make  up 
your  mind  whether  you  will  live  on  here  or  have  a little 
house  near  London.” 

“ But  what  matters  it  where  I live,  provided  you  are  with 
me  ? ” asks  the  young  wife,  in  dismay.  “ All  places  are  the 
same  to  me  if  you  are  there ; and  without  you  I cannot 
live.” 

“ My  dear  Eugenie,  I wish  you  would  try  to  be  sensible 
for  a few  minutes,”  he  retorts,  sharply.  “ Other  women 
have  to  live  without  their  husbands  being  constantly  with 
them,  and  you  will  have  to  do  the  same.  We  have  spent 
a most  delightful  honeymoon,  but  now  that  is  over  and  the 
practical  view  of  life  begins.  I will  spend  as  much  time 
with  you  as  I can,  and  if  you  are  living  near  London  I shall 
be  able  to  be  with  you  more  than  if  I have  this  long  journey 
before  me.  But  there  will  be  times  when  weeks  and  even 
months  may  elapse  without  your  seeing  me,  so  you  may  as 
well  make  up  your  mind  to  the  inevitable.” 

He  means  to  be  kind ; he  would  not  wantonly  give  her 
pain ; but  every  word  that  he  speaks  falls  upon  her  lacerated 
heart  like  molten  lead.  Their  honeymoon  is  over,  indeed  ! 
And  in  her  first  despair  at  awakening  from  her  dream  of 
bliss  she  wishes  that  her  life  might  end  with  it. 

But  she  gives  no  verbal  expression  to  her  grief.  Like  a 
statue  of  despair  she  sits,  until  he  has  finished ; then  she 
says,  quietly  : 

“In  that  case  we  had  better  live  near  London.” 

And  he  replies,  carelessly  : 

“Very  well,  I will  see  about  it.  And  now,  don't  cry 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


103 


your  eyes  out  while  I am  away ; I never  could  endure  a 
trearful  woman.” 

She  smiles  mechanically.  A hand  of  ice  seems  to  grip 
her  heart,  so  that  she  could  shriek  aloud  with  agony,  but 
she  controls  her  emotion  with  a self-command  which  few 
who  knew  her  would  give  her  credit  for  possessing ; she 
drives  back  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  though  her  cheeks 
are  pale,  and  her  lips^are  ashy  in  their  hue,  her  eyes  are 
bright,  and  she  seems  calm  and  resigned  to  her  husband 
leaving  her. 

Poor  Eugenie  ! her  awakening  has  only  just  begun,  and 
the  day  may  not  be  far  distant  when  she  will  bitterly  regret 
that  she  escaped  from  her  brother  and  Di  Castro  to  become 
the  wife  of  this  cold-blooded  Englishman  ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Hindfleet  Hall,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  as 
that  upon  which  Lord  Claude  Irongate  took  to  Hetty 
Hamblin  his  peace-offering. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  is  seated  in  a large  chair  near 
one  of  the  five  windows  in  the  drawing-room  ; her  hands  are 
busy  with  a pair  of  knitting-needles,  which  go  on  knitting 
monotonously,  seemingly  without  thought  or  attention  from 
the  person  who  holds  them. 

For  Lady  Edward  is  always  working  for  the  poor  people 
of  the  parish,  few  of  whom  appreciate  her  labors;  but 
though  her  hands  are  busy,  her  eyes  are  fixed  upon  her  son, 
who  is  lounging  in  a low  chair  at  some  distance  from  her, 
with  an  open  book  in  his  hand,  from  which  he  is  reading. 

But  after  awhile  his  eyes  wander  from  the  page  before 
him  to  the  window,  through  which  he  can  see  the  gardens, 
the  well- wooded  park,  and  Brent  Wood  in  the  far  distance. 

As  he  thus  gazes,  his  thoughts  must  be  pleasant  ones,  for 
his  face  softens,  his  eyes  grow  liquid  with  tender  feelings, 


104 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


and  a half  smile  parts  his  lips,  as  though  he  were  in  im- 
agination wafting  a kiss  to  one  who  is  not  present. 

His  is  the  face  of  a man  in  love,  of  a man  who  is  in  love 
for  the  first  time  ; of  one,  upon  whose  heart  the  passion 
comes  like  some  Heaven-sent  gift,  giving  a rarer  tinting  to 
the  flowers,  a brighter  beauty  to  the  skies,  throwing  a 
charm  and  a glamor  upon  every  object  in  nature,  awakening 
in  his  own  heart  undreamed  of  melodies,  stirring  into  life 
new  hopes,  new  fears,  new  aspirations ; lifting  his  soul 
nearer  to  Him  who  is  the  source  of  all  love. 

He  has  forgotten  that  he  is  not  alone  ; he  is  dreaming  a 
dream  that  comes  to  a man  but  once  in  a life-time,  and  a 
deep  sigh  of  mingled  pain  and  bliss  escapes  him,  just  before 
his  mother  asks,  abruptly : 

“Are  you  going  to  Colnehurst  to-day,  Gilbert  ? ” 

“No,  mother,”  he  replies,  briefly,  and  turns  to  the  perusal 
of  his  book,  with  another  sigh,  as  though  the  dream  in 
which  he  was  indulging  could  not  be  recalled. 

“You  didn’t  go  yesterday,  did  you?”  persists  Lady 
Edward,  ignoring  the  fact  that  her  son  does  not  seem 
inclined  to  talk. 

Again  he  answers  in  the  negative ; then  he  adds,  as 
though  he  would  change  the  subject : 

“ At  this  hour  yesterday  I was  up  a tree,  with  a furious 
bull  lying  in  wait  for  me  below.” 

“Yes;  that  was  a terrible  thing,”  returns  his  mother, 
with  a shudder.  “That  is  one  of  the  disadvantages  of 
living  in  this  country.  People  talk  of  the  perils  of  Indian 
life,  but  for  my  part  I would  as  soon  meet  a rogue  elephant 
as  an  infuriated  bull  — neither  of  them  could  do  more  than 
kill  you.” 

“No;  but  the  elephant  might  have  pulled  up  the  tree 
yesterday,”  replies  Gilbert,  carelessly.  “And  if  he  had 
not  done  that,  he  could  soon  have  pulled  us  down  with  his 
trunk.” 

“Us  ! ” repeats  his  mother,  catching  him  up,  quickly,, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


105 


“Did  I s^y  ns  ? ” he  asks,  flushing  with  vexation  at  his 
own  oversight. 

“You  did,”  is  the  emphatic  reply. 

“Then  I must  have  been  thinking  of  something  else,” 
he  retorts,  impatiently. 

His  mother’s  manner  of  questioning  lately  has  irritated 
him  greatly,  and  he  feels  that  the  time  will  soon  come  when 
he  will  have  to  make  a stand  against  it. 

Lady  Edward  is  conscious  of  this,  and  she  shifts  her 
ground;  and  though  far  from  satisfied,  she  returns  to  a 
subject  in  which  she  is  most  greatly  interested,  and  after 
the  lapse  of  a few  minutes,  she  asks: 

“Won’t  Lady  Daphne  wonder  at  your  absence  ?” 

“I  don’t  know,  neither  do  I care,”  is  the  reply  which 
startles  her  to  the  extent  of  making  her  repeat  incredu- 
lously: 

“You  don’t  care  ? ” 

“No,  not  in  the  least,”  he  answers,  with  a yawn;  “I  am 
tired  of  her  whims  and  fancies,  her  uncertain  temper,  and 
her  jealousies.  When  I left  Colnehurst  the  other  day  I 
more  than  half  resolved  never  to  enter  it  again.” 

“ But,  my  dear  Gilbert,  you  are  engaged  to  marry  her  ! ” 
expostulates  his  mother,  in  sudden  dismay. 

“Yes,  thanks  to  you,  mother,  I have  been  led  into  a 
pretty  trap  there  ! ” retorts  Gilbert,  with  unusual  temper. 
“ Why  you  should  want  to  marry  me  to  a woman  older  than 
myself,  and  possessed  of  such  a vile  temper,  I cannot  under- 
stand,” he  continues,  bitterly.  “For  my  own  part  I am  in 
no  hurry  to  marry,  and  I have  written  to  my  grandfather, 
to  ask  if  he  will  get  me  a diplomatic  appointment  abroad. 
I am  tired  of  the  aimless  life  I now  lead.” 

“ You  have  written  to  your  grandfather,  the  duke,  and 
have  made  such  a request  without  consulting  me  ? ” exclaims 
her  ladyship,  all  in  a flutter,  like  an  anxious  hen  when  her 
ducklings  take  to  the  water. 

“Yes,”  replies  Gilbert,  placidly,  “there  was  no  need  for 


106 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


consultation,  because  I had  made  up  my  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject. You  seem  to  forget,  mother,  that  I came  of  age  two 
years  ago,  and  that  I now  ought  to  think  and  act  for 
myself.” 

“ You  take  good  care  that  I shall  not  forget  it,”  retorts 
Lady  Edward,  passionately,  “but  since  you  have  ceased  to 
have  any  regard  for  my  feelings,  I shall  likewise  cease  to 
trouble  myself  about  you  or  your  movements.” 

And  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity  she  picks  up  her 
wool  and  her  knitting  needles,  and  slowly  walks  toward  the 
door,  every  moment  expecting  her  son  to  come  to  her  side, 
as  he  has  always  come  hitherto,  and  coax  her  to  remain  and 
entreat  her  forgiveness. 

But  this  time  Gilbert  does  not  rise,  does  not  utter  a word 
to  detain  her,  and  when  she  reaches  the  door,  she  turns  and 
looks  back,  scarcely  able  to  believe  that  her  influence  over 
her  only  son  is  one  whit  less  than  it  hitherto  has  been. 

He,  however,  is  gazing  through  the  window,  the  dreamy 
smile  softening  his  face  with  a tenderness  that  has  hitherto 
been  principally  for  his  mother,  and  she,  with  the  instinct 
of  love,  becomes  conscious  that  she  has  a powerful  rival  in 
his  heart. 

“You  are  ambitious,  like  your  father,”  she  mutters,  bit- 
terly, and  she  is  passing  through  the  doorway  when  a foot- 
man appears,  with  a small,  flat  parcel  in  his  hand. 

“What  is  it,  Sims  ? ” she  asks,  curiously. 

“A  picture  for  the  master,  my  lady,”  is  the  answer. 

Then  the  man  approaches  Gilbert  Tavenner,  and  says : 

“Joe  Hamblin  brought  this  himself,  sir.” 

“Ah  ! tell  him  to  wait,”  is  the  reply. 

Then,  with  unnecessary  eagerness,  Tavenner  unfolds  the 
small  oil  painting  upon  which  Hetty  Hamblin  has  worked 
so  industriously. 

“What  is  it?”  asks  Lady  Edward,  taking  this  slight 
opportunity  of  forgetting  her  resentment.” 

“The  portrait  of  old  Nestor,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


107 


Then,  observing  that  his  mother  shows  no  sign  of  leav- 
ing him  to  look  at  the  portrait  of  the  horse  alone,  he 
places  it  carefully  upon  a cabinet,  in  such  a position  that 
the  light  falls  well  upon  it,  and,  muttering  something 
about  paying  the  man,  he  walks  out  of  the  room. 

When  he  returns  his  mother  is  still  looking  at  the  paint- 
ing, and  a slight  expression  of  annoyance  comes  over  Gil- 
bert's face  as  she  asks : 

“ Who  is  II.  II.?” 

“I  don't  understand  you,”  he  replies.  Then,  perceiving 
the  initials  in  the  corner  of  the  picture,  he  says,  with  seem- 
ing indifference  : 

“H.  II.;  oh,  yes.  Hetty  Hamblin.” 

“ And  who  is  Hetty  Hamblin  ? ” demands  his  mother,  in 
her  most  categorical  tone. 

“She  is  the  artist  who  painted  this,”  he  answers. 

“So  I presume,”  is  the  haughty  response  ; “but  who  is 
the  woman  when  she  is  at  home?  ” 

“She  is  the  daughter  of  Lord  Claude's  trainer,”  replies 
her  son,  with  growing  restlessness. 

“And  is  she  pretty?  ” pursues  her  ladyship. 

“Yes,  more  than  pretty,”  he  returned,  steadily. 

“Ah,  I thought  as  much!”  cries  Lady  Edward,  in  a 
sharp,  angry  tone.  “It  was  the  girl's  beauty,  not  her 
talent,  that  induced  you  to  order  this  daub,  for  it  is 
nothing  but  a daub.  Look  at  those  legs  ; did  you  ever  see 
a horse  with  legs  like  those  ? ” 

“Yes,  in  my  opinion  the  legs  are  remarkably  well  drawn,” 
replies  Gilbert,  with  a smile.  “At  any  rate,”  he  adds,  as 
his  mother  tosses  her  head  with  contempt,  “ I am  satisfied 
with  the  performance,  which  I think  a very  creditable  one 
for  a girl  of  sixteen.” 

“Sixteen  !”  repeats  his  mother,  slowly;  then  to  herself 
she  mutters,  “ that  is  why  he  calls  Lady  Daphne  old  — he 
will  be  calling  her  plain  next.” 

But  she  feels  that  the  matter  is  one  in  which  she  can  take 


ios  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

no  step  at  present  and,,  suddenly  remembering  the  resent- 
ment regarding  her  son’s  letter  to  his  grandfather,  she 
makes  another  slighting  remark  about  the  picture  and  with 
stately  steps  sweeps  out  of  the  room. 

In  her  day  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  was  a very  handsome 
woman  ; she  retains  the  wreck  of  her  lost  beauty  now. 

Her  hair  is  silvery  in  its  whiteness,  and  clusters  in  tiny 
curls  round  her  forehead  ; her  eyes,  once  noted  for  their 
brightness,  have  grown  dull ; but  she  has  a fresh  com- 
plexion, and,  being  thoroughly  well-dressed,  she  still  appears 
a good-looking  woman. 

She  was  nearer  forty  than  thirty  when  she  married  Lord 
Edward  Tavenner,  the  fifth  son  of  the  Duke  of  Sandhaven. 

At  that  time  there  was  no  prospect  that  her  husband  or 
his  offspring  would  succeed  to  the  dukedom,  but  death  has 
claimed  one  after  another  of  those  who  stood  in  their  way ; 
the  duke  has  lost  his  sons  and  his  grandsons,  she  has  lost 
her  husband,  and  of  all  this  large  family  only  her  son  Gil- 
bert remains. 

But  the  old  duke  is  tough  and  wiry  ; he  is  eighty  now, 
he  may  live  to  be  a hundred.  His  likes  and  dislikes  are 
more  strongly  pronounced  than  in  a younger  man,  and 
though  he  can  tolerate  his  grandson,  who  is  likewise  his 
heir,  he  has  a most  unconquerable  aversion  to  his  grand- 
son’s mother. 

Thus  it  happens  that  Lady  Edward  is  never  invited  to 
Black  Tor  Castle,  and  that  she  has  by  way  of  retaliation 
always  kept  her  son  away  from  the  influence  of  his  grand- 
father as  much  as  possible. 

She  was  the  more  easily  able  to  do  this  because  she  has  a 
large  fortune  of  her  own.  Her  husband  had  possessed 
Hindfleet,  and  the  adjoining  estate  of  Brentwood  ; and, 
though  both  of  these  have  descended  to  her  son,  they  have 
made  her  and  him  practically  independent  of  her  father-in- 
law. 

So  Lady  Edward  has  been  accustomed  to  “ kick  up  her 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


109 


heels,”  as  the  old  duke  terms  it,  to  rule,  by  combined  tem- 
per and  affection,  both  her  husband  and  her  son.  But  her 
husband  has  gone  over  to  the  majority,  and  her  son  is  now, 
for  the  first  time,  rebelling  against  her  authority. 

How  hard  it  is  for  this  masterful  woman  to  find  her  son 
acting  and  thinking  for  himself,  it  is  needless  to  say. 

There  are  wise  parents  who  teach  their  offspring  self- 
reliance,  and  who  are  as  careful  that  they  shall  think  and 
act  wisely  for  themselves  as  that  they  shall  walk  well  and 
avoid  the  spiritual  dangers  that  surround  us  every  day  of 
our  lives. 

But  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  is  not  one  of  this  order  ; 
independence  on  the  part  of  her  son  means  rebellion  against 
her  authority,  and  it  was  partly  to  avoid  anything  of  this 
kind  that  she  had  arranged  the  engagement  between  Gilbert 
and  Lady  Daphne  Irongate. 

Lady  Daphne  is  one  of  Lady  Edward  Tavenner’s  favor- 
ites. She  has  always  submitted  to  her  superior  judgment, 
and  the  fact  of  her  being  a little  older  than  Gilbert  has 
been  rather  an  advantage  than  otherwise  in  Lady  Edward's 
eyes. 

“She  will  lead  him,”  had  been  her  mental  comment,  for- 
getful of  the  fact  that  there  are  men  who  do  not  care  to  be 
led. 

She  is  sitting  at  the  window  of  her  boudoir,  bitterly 
reflecting  upon  her  son’s  self-assertion,  and  upon  his  appli- 
cation to  his  grandfather  to  get  him  appointed  as  unpaid 
attache  to  some  foreign  court,  when,  in  the  road  of  which 
this  window  commands  a view,  she  perceives  an  open  car- 
riage, drawn  by  a pair  of  horses,  coming  toward  the  hall. 

For  a few  minutes  she  watches  this  carriage  doubtfully; 
then,  as  she  recognizes  its  occupant,  she  mutters  disdainfully: 

“If  the  mountain  won’t  come  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet 
must  come  to  the  mountain,  I see.  She  is  wiser  than  I 
expected.  The  prospect  of  becoming  a duchess  outweighs 
all  other  considerations,  but  I hope  she  will  be  gentle  and 


110  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

amiable  ; Gilbert  is  in  no  mood  to  stand  temper  or  dictation 
to  day.” 

So  she  muses,  while  Lady  Daphne  Irongate,  seated  alone 
in  the  large  carriage,  is  rapidly  brought  nearer  to  Hindfleet 
Hall. 

If  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  could  read  what  is  passing 
through  the  mind  of  the  woman  whom  she  has  selected  for 
a daughter-in-law,  she  would  go  down  to  the  carriage  to 
meet  her  and  take  her  direct  to  her  own  room. 

But  she  does  not ; she  thinks  it  may  be  just  as  well  for 
Gilbert  and  Lady  Daphne  to  meet,  and  get  their  little  dif- 
ferences settled  before  she  appears  upon  the  scene  ; and, 
therefore,  when  a servant  comes  to  announce  that  Lady 
Daphne  Irongate  is  in  the  drawing-room,  she  asks,  carelessly: 

“ Is  Mr.  Gilbert  with  her  ? ” 

And  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  she  says,  quietly  : 

“I  will  be  down  directly,”  and  goes  on  with  her  knitting. 

Ten  minutes  elapse,  a quarter  of  an  hour ; then  Lady 
Edward  rises  slowly  and  walks  with  deliberate  steps  toward 
the  long  drawing-room  in  which  she  had  left  her  son. 

The  sound  of  angry  voices  falls  upon  her  ear  as  she  opens 
the  door,  and  she  hears  Lady  Daphne  ask,  in  high-pitched 
treble  notes : 

“ Then  you  refuse  to  promise  never  to  speak  to  that  artful 
girl  again  ? ” 

“Of  course  I do,”  is  Gilbert’s  indignant  reply;  “I  shall 
speak  to  her  whenever  I have  the  chance.  I admire  her 
more  than  anybody  else  in  the  whole  world!  ” 

“This  to  me!”  cries  Lady  Daphne,  her  face  white,  her 
every  limb  trembling  with  rage. 

“You  hear  him!”  she  screams,  passionately,  turning  to 
Lady  Edward  ; “ you  hear  him  tell  me  that  he  admires  that 
vile  girl  who  has  come  between  us,  the  girl  who  has  bewitched 
my  brother,  and  who  paints  those  wretched  daubs  that  he 
sits  adoring;  but  I will  spoil  that  for  him,  at  any  rate!” 

And  before  a hand  can  be  lifted  to  restrain  her,  she  has 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Ill 


caught  up  an  ornamented  dagger,  intended  for  a paper 
knife,  that  was  on  a table  by  her  side,  and  has  dashed  it 
through  the  canvas  upon  which  the  portrait  of  Nestor  had 
been  painted. 

An  awful  silence  succeeds  this  outburst  of  insane 
wrath. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  utters  never  a word  ; Lady  Edward 
looks  at  the  pale,  stern  face  of  her  son,  then  at  the  plain, 
distorted  features  of  Lady  Daphne,  and  she  closes  her  own 
lips  tightly. 

No  woman  can  disprove  more  strongly  of  such  a senseless 
outburst  of  spite  than  she  does,  and  she  knows  her  son  too 
well  to  believe  that  any  words  of  hers  will  induce  him  now 
to  be  coerced  by  it. 

But  it  is  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  who  finds  this  silence 
the  most  dreadful. 

To  begin  with,  she  is  frightened  at  what  she  has  done. 
Next,  when  she  looks  with  a last  remnant  of  defiance  upon 
Gilbert's  handsome  face,  she  sees  that  it  is  hard  and  cold, 
and  when,  with  a sudden  revulsion  of  feeling,  she  lifts  up 
her  hands  in  entreaty  and  begins  to  appeal  to  his  love  and 
his  forgiveness,  he  takes  the  slashed  and  ruined  painting 
in  his  hand,  and  without  one  word  of  reproach,  of  anger,  or 
of  adieu,  he  slowly  and  steadily  leaves  the  room. 

“ Stop,  stop  ! Forgive  me  ! ” pleads  Lady  Daphne,  who 
is  now  beside  herself  with  remorse  and  grief. 

But  he  pays  no  heed  to  her,  and  his  mother's  words  fall 
upon  her  ear  like  a death-knell,  as  she  says : 

“ He  will  never  forgive  you.  Daphne ; I would  not  if  I 
were  he.  A woman  who  has  no  control  over  her  own  pas- 
sions is  no  fitting  wife  for  a son  of  mine." 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


112 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Ik  a very  unenviable  frame  of  mind  Lady  Daphne  Iron- 
gate  returns  to  Colnehurst  Castle. 

Like  most  ill-tempered  people,  she  thinks  of  the  wrong 
— real  or  imaginary  — done  to  herself,  and  counts  as  noth- 
ing the  pain  and  mortification  she  has  inflicted  upon 
others. 

Certainly  no  one  is  so  miserable  in  consequence  of  Lady 
Daphne's  ill-temper  as  she  is  herself. 

As  yet  she  does  not  realize  that  her  engagement  with  Gil- 
bert Tavenner  is  at  an  end,  that  her  prospect  of  one  day 
becoming  Duchess  of  Sandhaven  is  blotted  out. 

This  awakening  will  come  later  on,  when  she  has  had 
time  to  cool  and  to  reckon  up  the  consequences  of  her 
folly. 

At  present  she  is  thinking  more  of  Hetty  Hamblin  than 
of  any  one  else,  and  if  malignant  wishes  could  destroy  any 
human  being  our  poor  heroine  would  stand  a very  poor 
chance  of  seeing  another  sunrise. 

It  had  come  to  Lady  Daphne's  ears  on  this  eventful  day 
that  Gilbert  Tavenner  had  not  been  alone  in  his  peril  the 
previous  afternoon ; that  there  had  been  a girl  with  him  in 
the  branches  of  the  tree,  while  the  bull  was  waiting  for  him 
below  ; and  though  only  the  most  ill-disposed  person  could 
see  anything  to  give  cause  for  jealousy  in  this  fact.  Lady 
Daphne  at  once  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  been 
walking  by  the  river  side  with  this  girl,  and  her  jealous 
heart  with  unerring  certainty  at  once  decided  that  Hetty 
Hamblin  was  Gilbert's  companion. 

Several  things  helped  her  to  this  conclusion.  She  re- 
membered that  when  she  went  to  Stanmoor  the  previous 
afternoon  with  the  intention  of  seeing  Hetty,  Mrs.  Hamblin 
said  that  her  daughter  had  gone  to  Golneford,  and  on  her 
own  return  to  the  castle  she  found  that  Mr.  Tavenner  had 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  113 

not  called  as  usual ; and  if  he  had  not  been  near  the  town 
to  which  Hetty  had  been  sent,  he  could  not  have  encountered 
the  bull  nor  have  been  in  any  danger  from  it. 

This  circumstance  alone — annoying  though  it  was  — 
might  not  have  excited  Lady  Daphne  if  she  had  not  had 
Hetty  Hamblin  on  the  brain  for  the  last  eight-and-forty 
hours. 

Last  evening,  when  Lord  Claude  returned  home,  and  she 
began  to  abuse  the  trainer's  wife,  and  to  speak  in  disdainful 
terms  of  his  daughter,  repeating  her  request  that  Joe 
Hamblin  should  be  dismissed  from  her  brother's  service, 
the  latter  laughed  at  her  openly,  said  that  Joe  was  too 
useful  and  his  daughter  too  pretty  to  be  sent  away  ; and 
hinted  broadly  that  he  was  sufficiently  interested  in  the  girl 
himself  to  make  her  at  rest  about  Tavenner. 

But  Lord  Claude  has  kindled  the  fires  of  jealousy  in  his 
sister's  heart,  and  no  words  of  his  have  power  to  extinguish 
them. 

No,  not  even  when  she  sees  him,  followed  by  a groom 
carrying  a bouquet,  and  riding  in  the  direction  of  Stan- 
moor,  is  she  satisfied  that  Tavenner  is  in  no  danger  from 
Hetty's  wiles. 

On  the  contrary,  she  is  all  the  more  irritated  because  her 
brother  is  behaving  so  insanely,  and  she  wonders  what  she 
can  do  to  put  a stop  to  this  folly. 

But  it  was  not  until  after  luncheon,  when  she  expected 
Gilbert,  that  she  heard  about  his  having  a companion  in 
the  branches  of  the  tree  the  previous  afternoon,  and,  un- 
fortunately for  herself.  Lord  Claude  was  not  at  home  at  the 
time  to  laugh  her  out  of  her  jealous  mood. 

So  she  had  ordered  the  carriage,  had  ridden  to  Hindfleet 
Hall  alone,  as  we  have  seen  with  the  result  already  de- 
scribed, and  now  she  is  returning  home,  her  heart  filled  with 
sullen  wrath  against  Gilbert  Tavenner  and  his  mother,  as 
well  as  against  Lord  Claude  and  poor,  unoffending  Hetty. 

For  the  time  being,  however,  she  is  beaten.  Mrs.  Ham- 


il4 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


blin  has  defied  her ; her  brother  laughs  at  her,  and  declines 
to  be  influenced  by  her  in  any  way ; Gilbert  Tavenner  has 
left  her  presence  in  silent  resentment,  and  even  his  mother, 
who  has  been  her  staunchest  friend  throughout,  has  con- 
demned her. 

Under  these  circumstances  there  is  nothing  for  Lady 
Daphne  to  do  but  to  return  home,  seek  her  own  room,  and 
indulge  in  violent  hysterics,  greatly  to  the  distress  of  her 
aunt  and  the  annoyance  of  her  maid,  to  say  nothing  of  her 
own  mental  and  physical  exhaustion,  which  becomes  so 
great  that  for  a whole  week  she  is  confined  to  her  own 
room,  and  the  family  doctor  is  in  daily  attendance  upon 
her. 

When  she  returns  to  the  world,  the  world  has  changed, 
in  so  far  as  she  is  concerned. 

To  begin  with,  Gilbert  Tavenner  has  gone  away  from 
Hindfleet  Hall  to  spend  a few  weeks  with  his  grandfather, 
and  from  Black  Tor  Castle  he  will  start  to  join  the  British 
Legation  in  Bulgaria. 

Moreover,  he  has  left  home  without  a word,  either  by 
letter  or  messenger,  to  the  woman  to  whom  he  was  engaged, 
and  all  of  his  friends  know  of  his  movements  before  the 
news,  in  a casual  manner,  reaches  Lady  Daphne. 

This  is  the  first  blow,  but  she  is  in  a measure  prepared 
for  it.  During  those  weary  days  which  she  has  spent  in 
the  seclusion  of  her  own  apartments,  the  bitter  truth  has 
forced  itself  upon  her  heart  that  Gilbert  Tavenner  has 
made  up  his  mind  not  to  marry  her. 

That  she  has  herself  to  thank  for  this  decision  is  no  con- 
solation to  her  ; it  is  not  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  her 
jealous  temper  has  marred  her  own  happiness  ; and  now,  as 
heretofore,  she  blames  the  object  of  her  jealousy  instead  of 
herself,  for  the  mortification  that  has  fallen  upon  her. 

But  this  is  not  all ; her  brother,  Lord  Claude,  is  like- 
wise giving  her  anxiety. 

Servants  are  always  quick  to  catch  hold  of  anything  con- 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


115 


nected  with  one  of  their  own  class,  and  Lord  Claude's 
attentions  to  Hetty  Hamblin,  the  trainer's  daughter,  have 
already  been  freely  commented  upon. 

The  head-gardener  privately  expresses  his  indignation  at 
his  choicest  flowers  being  cut  every  morning  to  send  to 
Stanmoor,  to  a girl  who  is  far  from  being  so  well  off  as  his 
own  daughter  ; the  groom  who  carries  the  bouquet  has  like- 
wise his  grievance  ; the  women  servants  — who  are  scandal- 
ized by  this  marked  attention  to  a girl  who,  like  her 
mother,  has  always  kept  aloof  from  them  — do  not  fail  to 
express  their  opinions ; and  these  murmurs  reach  Lady 
Daphne  through  her  maid,  and  alarm  her  as  to  the  stabil- 
ity of  her  position  in  her  brother's  house. 

For  Lady  Daphne  reads  these  signs  aright;  she  under- 
stands that  they  mean  matrimony. 

She  judges  pretty  correctly  that  her  brother  Claude  is  no 
saint,  but  he  has  always  been  very  careful  to  avoid  scandal, 
and  if  he  has  indulged,  in  any  gallantries  it  has  been  far 
away  from  his  own  home. 

So  scrupulous  has  he  been  on  this  point  that  his  sister 
understands  at  once  the  end  to  which  all  these  marked 
attentions  are  tending,  and,  instead  of  being  glad,  mentally 
anathematizes  Hetty  for  her  supposed  presumption  in  desir- 
ing to  become  the  mistress  of  Colnehurst  Castle. 

It  is  on  the  tenth  day  after  that  unfortunate  visit  of  hers 
to  Hindfleet  Hall  that  Lady  Daphne  and  her  aunt  are  driv- 
ing in  an  open  carriage  through  the  shady  lanes  of  Colne- 
shire. 

Plainer  than  ever  is  Lady  Daphne;  the  frown  on  her 
brow  has  deepened,  her  complexion  is  dull  and  leaden  in 
hue,  her  pale  blue  eyes  look  as  though  half  of  the  color 
had  been  washed  out  of  them,  and  her  light  brown  hair  is 
destitute  alike  of  gloss  or  curl. 

She  is  aged,  too — she  looks  a woman  of  thirty,  and  her 
dress  is  as  unbecoming  as  the  dress  of  a fashionable  lady 
cpin  be. 


116 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Her  aunt  and  she  have  been  driving  in  silence  for  a 
couple  of  hours ; she  does  not  feel  sufficiently  amiable  to 
make  any  calls,,  and  Mrs.  Beevor,  oppressed  by  the  heat  of 
the  day,  and  lulled  by  the  motion  of  the  carriage,  has  fallen 
into  a comfortable  doze,  from  which  she  is  suddenly 
awakened  by  Lady  Daphne  stopping  the  coachman,  and 
demanding  sternly: 

“ Who  is  that  girl  ? ” 

“ Who  — where  ? ” asks  Mrs.  Beevor,  still  only  half 
awake. 

Her  niece  pays  no  heed  to  her  ; her  eyes  are  fixed  upon  a 
group  at  a little  distance,  and  her  aunt,  following  her 
gaze,  perceives  Lord  Claude  mounted  on  one  of  his  saddle- 
horses,  and  accompanied  by  a man  with  a horsey  appear- 
ance — who  does  not  seem  to  be  either  a groom  or  a gentle- 
man — and  a girl,  likewise  mounted,  whose  beautiful  face 
and  graceful  figure  would  attract  attention  anywhere. 

“That  is  Joe  Hamblin  and  his  daughter,  my  lady  ! ” is 
the  reply  which  the  man  makes,  without  moving  a muscle 
of  his  face. 

“Drive  nearer  to  them  ; I want  to  see  her,”  is  the  order  ; 
and  the  coachman  obediently  turns  his  horses,  and  drives 
in  a direction  which  will  necessitate  his  passing  the  party 
on  horseback. 

Lord  Claude  has  observed  the  movement ; he  knows  his 
sister’s  temper  well ; he  guesses  that  she  means  to  make 
mischief,  if  possible,  and,  with  a word  of  excuse  to  his 
companions,  he  rides  forward  alone  to  meet  the  carriage. 

The  coachman  pulls  up  as  his  master  lifts  his  hand,  and 
his  lordship  rides  to  the  side  of  his  sister,  and,  bending  for- 
ward, he  asks,  in  a low  tone,  so  that  the  servants  shall  not 
overhear  him: 

“ Why  did  you  turn  this  way,  Daphne  ? ” 

“I  wanted  to  have  a good  look  at  that  girl,”  is  the 
defiant  reply. 

“Very  well,  I will  introduce  you  if  you  will  promise  to  be 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


117 


friendly  and  kind  to  her/’  he  says,  in  a tone  the  quiet 
determination  of  which  frightens  her,  though  she  is  suffi- 
ciently enraged  to  say,  disdainfully  : 

“ Friendly  with  the  daughter  of  a servant  ! ” 

“No;  friendly  with  my  future  wife  !”  he  replies,  dis- 
tinctly and  in  a tone  loud  enough  for  the  footman  and 
coachman  to  hear  him. 

“ Claude,  you  are  mad  ! ” cries  his  sister,  passionately. 

“ Not  half  so  mad  as  you  are  ! ” he  replies,  with  hard-set 
mouth,  piercing  eyes,  and  an  expression  on  his  handsome 
countenance  that  makes  her  quail. 

Then,  as  she  does  not  retort,  he  says,  steadily  : 

“If  you  will  not  be  kind  and  friendly  to  Hetty,  oblige  me 
by  going  some  other  way.  You  will  drive  me  to  extreme 
measures  if  you  insult  her.” 

“ As  if  I could  insult  such  a creature  ! ” exclaims  Lady 
Daphne,  her  temper  again  getting  the  better  of  her  discre- 
tion. “ I will  not  drive  any  other  way ; let  her  avoid  me  if 
she  likes ! Go  on  ! ” she  adds,  imperiously,  turning  to  the 
coachman. 

But  the  latter  looks  to  his  master  for  orders,  and  when 
Lord  Claude  says,  authoritatively,  “ Turn  round  and  drive 
home ! ” he  touches  his  hat  and  obeys,  despite  Lady 
Daphne’s  angry  protest  and  her  passionate  assertion  that  he 
shall  never  drive  her  again. 

When  she  reaches  home  her  ladyship  indulges  in  another 
fit  of  hysterics ; but  this  does  not  last  long,  for  her  aunt  soon 
leaves  her  to  the  care  of  her  maid,  and  the  latter  shows  so 
little  concern  for  her  condition  that  she  suddenly  pulls 
herself  together  and  becomes  as  calm  and  silent  as  she  had 
recently  been  excited  and  loud. 

A judge  of  human  nature  would  perceive  that  this  change 
bodes  no  good  for  the  object  of  her  hatred  ; it  is  the  silent 
river  that  closes  its  deep  waters  over  its  helpless  victim, 
not  the  babbling  brook,  that  runs  so  noisily  upon  its  way. 


118 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Hitherto,  Lady  Daphne’s  angry  passions  have  only  injured 
herself ; henceforth  she  will  make  them  a scourge  to  others. 

This  evening  Lady  Daphne  keeps  her  own  room,  and  her 
brother  does  not  see  her  on  his  return  home ; but  the  next 
morning  she  appears  at  breakfast  as  usual,  and  no  one,  to 
judge  by  her  manner,  would  suppose  that  she  had  lost  the 
chance  of  becoming  a duchess,  and  that  her  tenure  as  mis- 
tress of  her  brother’s  house  was  rapidly  coming  to  an  end. 

After  the  little  exhibition  of  temper  yesterday.  Lord 
Claude  is  surprised  to  find  her  so  calm  and  sensible ; but  he 
is  wise  enough  to  make  no  comment  upon  the  change, 
though,  when  the  meal  is  over,  and  he  can  speak  with  her 
quietly  and  alone,  he  asks  : 

“ Is  it  all  off  between  you  and  Tavenner,  Daphne  ? ” 

“I  don’t  know,”  she  replies,  gloomily. 

“ I ask  because  he  went  away  without  calling  to  see  either 
of  us,”  he  continues ; “and  I heard  that  you  went  over  to 
Hindfleet  Hall  the  day  before  you  were  laid  up.  I suppose 
the  truth  is,  you  and  Gilbert  had  a row  ? ” 

“You  may  call  it  so  if  you  like,”  she  replies,  coldly  ; “we 
certainly  disagreed,  though  nothing  was  said  about  break- 
ing off  the  engagement.” 

“Well,  what  did  happen,  or  what  was  said  ?”  her  brother 
demands,  impatiently.  “I  have  a right  to  know,”  he  con- 
tinues. “ I am  waiting  for  you  to  get  married,  before  tak- 
ing a similar  step  myself.” 

“ If  you  wait  for  that,  I am  afraid  you  will  have  to  wait 
a long  time,”  she  replies,  scornfully.  “Gilbert  left  me  in 
silence  the  last  time  we  were  together.  I have  heard  that 
he  intends  to  go  to  Bulgaria  when  he  leaves  his  grandfather ; 
but  he  has  not  condescended  to  inform  me  of  the  fact.” 
“Would  you  like  me  to  write  and  ask  him  the  meaning  of 
his  conduct  ? ” asks  Lord  Claude.  “ Or  rather,”  he  continues, 
seeing  his  sister  hesitate,  “ I will  ask  him  for  my  own  con- 
venience when  he  means  to  marry  you.” 

“You  will  not  do  this  on  my  authority  !”  replies  Lady 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


119 


Daphne,  haughtily.  “ I decline  to  be  flung  at  the  head  of 
any  man,  and  I am  in  no  hurry  to  marry  ! ” 

So  saying,  she  leaves  the  room,  her  head  high  in  the  air , 
for  though  she  is  anxious  to  hear  from  Gilbert  Tavenner, 
she  would  not  bend  her  pride  sufficiently  to  say  so. 

But  her  brother  mutters  to  himself,  as  the  door  closes 
behind  her  : 

“ If  you  are  not  in  a hurry,  I am.  Hetty  isn't  like  other 
girls.  She  hasn't  accepted  me  yet,  but  when  she  does  I 
must  marry  her  without  loss  of  time.  In  her  case  delays 
are  dangerous.  Young  Lord  Broadacre  asked  me  her 
name  the  other  day  and  wanted  to  be  introduced  ; he 
admired  her  greatly,  but  I am  first  in  the  field,  and  her 
mother  is  on  my  side.  Still,  I am  glad  that  Tavenner  is 
out  of  the  way  ; I have  always  felt  that  there  was  danger 
from  that  quarter.” 

Thus  musing,  he  sits  down  to  write  to  Gilbert  Tavenner, 
and  asks  him,  in  the  most  straightforward  manner  possible, 
when  he  proposes  to  fulfill  his  engagement,  and  marry 
Lady  Daphne. 

The  answer  comes  by  return  of  post,  and  runs  as  follows  : 

“Dear  Lord  Claude  : In  answer  to  your  question  : ‘Never  ! ’ Tam  now 
on  my  way  to  Bulgaria,  where  any  letter  directed  to  me  at  the  British  legation 
will  certainly  come  to  hand. 

“ Yours  truly, 

“Gilbert  Tavenner.” 

“No  lack  of  decision  about  this,”  mutters  Lord  Claude, 
angrily,  turning  over  the  paper  as  he  speaks;  “but  it's 
very  shabby  of  him  to  back  out  of  it  in  this  fashion  ; and  so 
Hetty  will  think,  I have  no  doubt,  when  I show  her  the 
letter.  Awfully  mean ! I shouldn't  have  thought  it  of 
him. 

So  he  takes  the  letter  to  Stanmoor  the  same  morning, 
and  Lady  Daphne  does  not  know  of  its  arrival,  nor,  indeed, 
that  her  brother  had  written  to  demand  an  answer. 


120 


FOILED  BY  LOVE < 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A change  has  come  over  Hetty  Hamblin.  She  is  not 
less  beautiful  than  of  old,  but  she  is  less  buoyant,  more 
subdued,  as  though  the  weight  of  an  unaccustomed  trouble 
rested  heavily  upon  her  heart. 

Her  father  regards  her  anxiously;  she  is  his  pride,  his 
joy,  his  one  compensation  for  the  great  mistake  he  made  in 
marrying  a lady. 

When  we  hear  of  a couple  being  unequally  yoked  together 
in  matrimony  our  sympathies  at  once  go  out  to  the  man  or 
the  woman  who  has  descended  to  a lower  level,  but  surely 
the  feelings  of  the  more  humble  individual  are  equally 
entitled  to  consideration,  and  the  regret  on  one  side  is  often 
found  to  be  quite  as  great  as  on  the  other. 

Poor  Joe  Hamblin  in  his  secret  soul  has  mourned  over  his 
marriage  as  much  as  his  wife,  but  he  has  had  the  good 
sense  to  say  little  about  it.  He  is  proud  of  his  children, 
proud  that  Chris  is  so  like  himself  in  his  tastes  and  pursuits, 
but  still  more  proud  of  his  daughter’s  beauty  and  refinement. 

That  everybody  who  sees  her  should  admire  Hetty  seems 
to  him  quite  a natural  thing,  and  therefore  he  is  not  very 
greatly  surprised  when  his  wife  tells  him  that  his  master. 
Lord  Claude  Irongate,  wishes  to  marry  their  daughter. 

“I  am  glad  of  it,”  he  says,  slowly,  and  in  a tone  that 
belies  his  words.  “ She  was  born  for  a different  life  than 
we  can  give  her,  but  we  shall  lose  her.  ’Twill  never  do  for 
his  lordship’s  father-in-law  to  be  his  trainer  ; we  shall  have 
to  go  away  and  seek  our  living  elsewhere.” 

“I  don’t  suppose  there  will  be  any  necessity  for  that,” 
returns  his  wife,  coldly;  “and,  in  any  case,  you  need  not  be 
in  a hurry.  Hetty  is  still  too  young  to  marry,  and  Lord 
Claude  must  get  his  sister  off  his  hands  before  he  can  bring 
home  a wife.” 

“And  how  does  Hetty  take  to  it  ?”  asks  Joe,  anxiously. 


121 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

But  his  wife  shrugs  her  shoulders,  and  replies,  im- 
patiently : 

“She  is  fanciful,  as  all  girls  are.” 

Then,  observing  the  expression  of  her  husband’s  counte- 
nance, she  adds,  sharply  : 

“I  hope  you  won’t  encourage  her  in  her  fancies.  This 
will  be  her  only  chance  of  ever  winning  back  for  herself 
what  I have  lost ; she  is  not  fit  to  be  a poor  man’s  wife,  and 
she  will  never  be  able  to  maintain  herself.” 

“Still,  I don’t  see  why  she  need  marry  a man  if  she 
doesn’t  like  him,”  expostulates  Joe,  sturdily.  “There  is 
Chris  to  take  care  of  her  if  anything  should  happen  to  you 
and  me.” 

“ Chris  ! ” she  repeats,  and  the  withering  contempt  con- 
veyed in  her  voice  baffles  any  powers  of  description. 

Her  husband  cowers  under  it,  as  though  she  had  lashed 
him  with  a whip ; he  would  have  borne  it  better  had  she 
done  so,  for  her  words  sometimes  wound  him  far  more 
cruelly  than  could  any  instrument  of  torture. 

Her  words  seem  to  imply  that  Chris  belongs  to  a different 
order  of  beings  to  his  sister  ; but  Joe  knows  that  his  son  is 
a good  fellow  in  his  way,  and  after  a momentary  pause  he 
gathers  courage  to  say  : 

“Chris  is  a better  son  than  you  deserve,  missus;  and  1 
won’t  have  Hetty  made  to  marry  a man  she  don’t  like  ; so 
you’ve  heard  my  words.” 

And  he  walks  away  quickly,  fearful  lest  he  may  be  tempted 
to  say  more  than  he  desires. 

But  after  this  he  watches  his  daughter  narrowly.  He 
sees  her  droop  like  a lily  overpowered  by  the  too  fervid 
sun;  he  notices  that  she  never  greets  Lord  Claude  with  the 
glad  eagerness  natural  to  a girl  who  is  in  love — that  she 
shrinks  from  him  whenever  he  approaches  her  closely;  and 
that,  without  being  rude  or  repulsive,  she  invariably  with- 
draws her  hand  from  his  clasp  as-  soon  as  possible,  while  she 
dislikes  even  to  walk  in  the  garden  with  him  alone. 


122 


FOILED  BY  LO  VE!. 


All  this  her  father  observes,  with  an  eye  made  searching 
by  his  paternal  love;  and  he  notes,  too,  how  his  daughter 
seems  to  lose  heart,  how  her  vitality  forsakes  her,  and  how 
limp  and  listlesss  she  gradually  becomes. 

“ She  is  getting  like  my  sister  Carrie,  who  died  in  a decline,” 
he  cries  out  one  day  to  his  wife,  in  sudden  alarm,  “ I see  it 
in  her  face  and  in  her  ways.  See  how  thin  she  is  getting, 
how  pale  her  cheeks  are,  when  they  used  to  be  as  bright  as 
the  rosy  side  of  a peach.  She  must  have  a change.  You 
had  better  pack  up  to-morrow,  and  take  her  to  the  seaside; 
Fll  find  the  money,  and  if  I run  short  Chris  isn’t  the  lad 
to  snap  his  purse  at  his  father.  You  may  go  where  you 
like,  but  you  must  go  to  the  seaside.  And  mark  me,  wife, 
for  the  first  week  Lord  Claude  mustn’t  join  you.” 

“ Very  well,”  replies  Mrs.  Hamblin,  indifferently. 

She  is  not  displeased  at  the  prospect  of  a change,  but  she 
is  vexed  at  the  tone  which  her  husband  has  adopted,  and 
still  more  vexed  with  her  daughter  for  showing  so  unmis- 
takably how  completely  she  has  been  coerced  into  a tacit 
acceptance  of  Lord  Claude  as  a possible  husband. 

While  she  is  thus  thinking  she  looks  out  of  the  window, 
and  perceives  her  daughter  seated  under  the  shade  of  the 
great  cedar,  her  easel  standing  near  her,  but  neglected, 
while  she  leans  back  in  a low  chair,  with  a book  in  her 
hand,  but  resting  listlessly  upon  her  lap,  it  being  but  too 
evident  that  she  is  not  reading. 

“ What  can  be  the  matter  with  the  girl  ? ” exclaims  Mrs. 
Hamblin,  impatiently.  “ She  isn’t  a bit  like  her  usual  self  ; 
she  seems  to  have  lost  all  life  and  spirit  since  Lord  Claude 
has  made  manifest  his  intentions.  If  there  were  anybody 
with  whom  she  could  be  in  love,  I should  say  that  was  the 
cause,  but  there  isn’t ; and  yet  nothing  seems  to  rouse  her. 
But  Joe  is  wrong — her  ailment  is  mental,  not  physical  ; a 
change  may  do  her  good,  but  I am  not  afraid  of  her  lungs, 
they  are  sound  enough.” 

At  this  point  in  her  reflections  she  observes  that  Lord 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


123 


Claude  Irongate  approaches  Hetty,  takes  her  hand,  and 
would  kiss  her  if  she  did  not  draw  back  in  a manner  which 
effectually  repulses  the  attempt. 

But  he  seats  himself  by  her  side,  and  begins  to  talk. 

“ You  are  not  looking  well  to-day,”  observes  his  lordship, 
with  solicitude. 

“ There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  thank  you,” 
replies  Hetty,  indifferently  ; “ the  heat  is  great,  and  I get 
tired  of  everything,  but  I am  not  ill.” 

“No,  but  you  want  a change,”  he  says,  decisively;  “so 
do  I,  and  the  change  I propose  is  that  we  get  married  at 
once  and  go  on  the  Continent ; or,  if  you  prefer  it,  we  will 
go  to  Norway  — we  shall  get  cool  weather  there.” 

“ Oh,  no  ; my  mother  told  me  that  your  sister  would  first 
marry,”  replies  Hetty,  nervously  and  looking  wistfully  at 
the  shining  river,  a gleam  of  which  she  catches  through  the 
trees.  “ She  told  me  that  Lady  Daphne  would  get  married 
before  you  would  think  of  anything  of  the  kind.” 

“But  there  is  no  chance  of  Lady  Daphne  marrying,”  he 
retorts,  impatiently  ; “ it  is  all  broken  off  between  her  and 
Tavenner.” 

“ Broken  off  ! ” repeats  Hetty,  ignoring  that  part  of  his 
grievance  which  troubles  him  most. 

“Yes,  broken  off,”  he  replies,  gloomily.  “I  suppose  she 
has  been  showing  off  her  temper  to  Tavenner,  and  he 
wouldnT  stand  it  any  longer.  I wrote  to  ask  him  when  the 
marriage  was  coming  off,  and  this  is  the  answer.” 

He  hands  Gilbert  Tavenner's  letter  to  Hetty,  and  she 
reads  it  with  breathless  interest. 

The  words  are  decisive  enough.  In  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion when  he  means  to  marry  Ladv  Daphne,  the  reply  is 
“ Never!  ” 

And  Hetty,  reading  the  word,  feels  her  heart  bound  like 
a bird  fluttering  against  the  bars  of  its  cage,  with  a sudden 
hope  of  coming  freedom  ; a film  seems  to  gather  before  her 
eyes,  to  make  everything  indistinct  and  blurred  ; and  when 


124 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


his  lordship  speaks,  her  tongue  for  the  moment  is  tied,  and 
she  hands  him  back  the  letter  in  silence. 

“ Don't  you  think  it  was  awfully  shabby  of  him  to  cry  off 
in  this  fashion,  just  as  his  fulfilling  his  engagement  was 
most  important  to  me  ? ” 

“I  suppose  he  had  good  reason  for  what  he  did,”  Hetty 
nerves  herself  to  say,  steadily. 

“ I might  have  known  you  would  take  his  part ; women 
always  do  side  with  men  against  each  other.” 

“ Am  I taking  his  part  ? ” asks  Hetty,  a bright  color  com- 
ing into  her  cheeks. 

“ It  pays  to  make  you  angry,  Hetty  ; you  look  a different 
girl  when  you  are  excited.  I must  have  a kiss  ; come  now, 
don't  be  so  coy,  nobody  is  looking,  and  if  anybody  were, 
why  should  we  care  ? ” 

But  Hetty  throws  back  her  head  in  sudden  alarm,  and 
answers,  coldly  : 

“I  don't  like  kissing,”  she  replies,  evasively;  “ and  I hate 
to  be  touched,”  she  adds,  retreating  from  him  as  he  tries  to 
clasp  his  arm  round  her  slender  waist. 

“You  are  the  only  girl  of  my  acquaintance  who  does  dis- 
like it,”  he  says,  in  a tone  of  annoyance;  “and  I half 
believe  that  you  only  say  it  now  to  provoke  me.  You  seem 
to  forget  that  I have  a right  to  kiss  and  embrace  you  when 
I desire  to  do  so.” 

“ Indeed,  my  lord,  you  have  no  such  right ! ” asserts 
Hetty,  with  more  spirit  than  she  has  hitherto  shown.  “ I 
have  not  given  you  the  right,  and  nobody  else  could  do  so.” 

“Ah,  I see  ! you  think  I am  too  ardent  in  my  wooing,” 
he  returns  with  an  uneasy  laugh;  “and,  perhaps,  you  are 
right.  I have  been  rather  spoilt  by  your  fair  sex  ; how- 
ever, I will  try  to  have  patience  while  your  frozen  heart 
thaws,  and  in  the  meantime  you  might  consider  my  propo- 
sition that  we  should  get  married  and  go  abroad  until  some 
arrangement  is  made  with  regard  to  the  residence  of  my 
sister,  Lady  Daphne,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


125 


“That  proposition  requires  no  consideration,,  my  lord,” 
replies  Hetty,  firmly.  “ I would  not  be  married  in  a hurry, 
and  I would  not  willingly  go  abroad  for  any  length  of 
time.” 

“Well,  then,  what  is  to  be  done  ? ” he  asks,  contracting 
his  brows. 

“I  don't  see  the  necessity  for  doing  anything  at  present,” 
she  replies,  evasively. 

Then,  as  he  begins  to  protest  that  he  cannot  and  will  not 
wait,  she  says,  emphatically  : 

“ My  mother  has  promised  me  that  I shall  not  marry  be- 
fore I am  eighteen  unless  I wish  it,  and  I am  not  seventeen 
yet ; therefore,  there  is  more  than  a year  before  me.  ” 

She  does  not  add  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  this 
promise  that  she  likewise  bound  herself  not  to  refuse  Lord 
Claude  in  the  interval,  though  nothing  could  induce  her  to 
promise  to  accept  him. 

“In  that  case  I suppose  I must  wait,”  he  says,  ruefully  ; 
“ and  meanwhile  I must  find  some  means  of  getting  Daphne 
off  my  hands.  An  unmarried  sister  is  a great  bore,”  he 
continues,  thoughtfully,  “particularly  when  she  is  blessed 
with  such  a temper  as  mine  has.” 

To  this  Hetty  makes  no  reply. 

Hetty  has  never  spoken  to  Lady  Daphne,  but  she  has  un- 
derstood from  her  mother  that  Lord  Claude's  sister  is  very 
bitter  against  herself,  and  she  could  see  from  her  ladyship's 
countenance  yesterday  that  she  was  prepared  to  be  very 
haughty  and  disagreeable  when  they  met. 

If  she  loved  Lord  Claude,  this  would  probably  trouble 
her,  but  she  does  not  love  him,  she  is  not  sure  even  that 
she  likes  him,  and  if  her  mother  had  not  coerced  her, 
partly  through  her  affections,  partly  by  her  authority,  she 
would  have  positively  and  definitely  refused  him. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  knows  how  the  constant  dropping  of 
water  will  wear  away  a stone,  and  in  like  manner,  there  be- 
ing no  rival  in  the  field,  she  feels  very  sure  that  With 


126 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


patience  and  perseverance,  Lord  Claude  may  win  her 
daughter  to  become  his  wife. 

Whether  or  not  her  calculations  are  right  time  alone  can 
show,  but,  whatever  may  be  his  lordship's  opinion  on  the 
matter,  she  is  very  well  satisfied  with  the  progress  he  has 
made. 

Even  Hetty's  cold  manner,  and  her  refusal  to  allow  him 
a lover's  privilege  of  kissing  her,  is  an  additional  attraction 
to  a man  who  has,  as  he  himself  confesses,  been  rather 
spoiled  by  women,  and  the  observant  mother  sees  this,  and 
is  pleased  that  it  should  be  so. 

She  lias  been  watching  them  all  this  time  through  the 
window,  thinking  what  a handsome  couple  they  make, 
amused  to  see  their  animated  faces,  but  too  far  distant  to 
hear  their  words. 

Somebody  else  watches  them  also. 

In  a clump  of  bushes,  on  a slightly  elevated  piece  of 
ground,  a man  is  jealously  regarding  the  lovers  who  are 
under  the  tall  cedar. 

He  likewise  is  too  distant  to  hear  their  voices  ; he  could 
not  even  see  them  well  if  he  were  not  provided  with  an  old 
pair  of  race -glasses,  which  he  keeps  before  his  eyes,  and 
thus,  with  his  hands,  more  than  half  covers  his  own  face. 

Judging  from  his  low,  muttered  words  the  scene  upon 
which  he  looks  does  not  meet  with  his  approbation,  and  a 
coarse  oath  escapes  his  lips  as  the  couple  rise  from  their 
seats,  as  though  meaning  to  take  a stroll,  and  Lord  Claude, 
with  an  assumption  of  proprietorship,  links  his  arm  in 
Hetty's  and  leads  her  slowly  toward  the  river. 

The  fact  of  a man  taking  a girl's  arm  always  makes  a 
passer-by  look  steadily  at  the  couple.  It  seems  to  imply  so 
much  — that  she  belongs  to  him,  that  he  is  proud  to  show 
all  the  world  his  choice,  and  to  lean  upon  her,  as  she  in 
years  to  come  shall  lean  upon  him. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  observes  the  action  and  smiles  with  satis- 
faction. Hetty  shrinks  for  a moment  from  the  clasp,  then 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


127 


sidbmits.  She  feels  that  to  resent  it  or  to  make  any  fuss 
would  be  prudish  in  the  extreme  ; and  the  man,  half  hidden 
in  the  bushes,  growls  and  follows  the  pair  at  a good  distance. 

Well  it  is  for  both  of  them  that  his  harmless  race-glass  is 
not  a loaded  gun,  for,  in  his  present  frame  of  mind,  he 
would  be  quite  sure  to  give  them  the  benefit  of  its  contents. 

Lord  Claude  and  Hetty  walk  slowly  down  to  the  river; 
they  are  talking  about  pictures. 

His  lordship  is  telling  the  girl  that  he  paints  a little  him- 
self, and  he  says  he  will  come  down  the  next  day  and  work 
with  her  and  set  up  an  easel  of  his  own. 

Hetty  is  not  altogether  pleased  with  this  suggestion  ; she 
fears  that  she  will  have  much  more  of  his  company  than 
she  desires,  but  she  cannot  say  so,  and  she  consoles  herself 
with  the  reflection  that  a fashionable  man  like  Lord  Claude, 
courted  as  he  is  wherever  he  goes,  will  soon  get  tired  of 
painting  in  the  company  of  a girl  who  does  not  show  too 
much  pleasure  in  having  him  frequently  with  her. 

Presently  Lord  Claude  looks  at  his  watch,  then  exclaims 
in  a tone  of  vexation  : 

“By  Jove  ! how  late  it  is,  and  I have  some  men  coming 
to  luncheon  with  me.  1 ought  to  have  been  at  home  half- 
an-hour  ago  ; will  you  excuse  me,  darling  ? I can  make  a 
short  cut  to  the  stables  from  here,  and  shall  just  get  home 
in  time  to  keep  my  friends  from  thinking  themselves 
slighted.” 

“Yes;  don’t  wait  a minute  on  my  account,”  says  Hetty, 

promptly. 

“ One  kiss  ? ” he  begs,  bending  toward  her  fair  face. 

But  she  shakes  her  head,  retreats  a step,  then  offers  him 

her  hand. 

“You  pretty  prude  !”  he  exclaims,  in  a tone  of  vexation. 

Then  he  kisses  her  hand,  lifts  his  hat,  and  hastens  away, 
leaving  her  standing  by  the  river’s  brink  alone. 

“At  last ! ” she  exclaims,  in  a tone  of  relief  and  clasping 


9 


128  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

her  hands  tightly.  “ I thought  he  would  never  go,  and  I 
want  to  think.” 

She  walks  along  slowly,  her  hands  still  clasped,  her  head 
drooping,  her  mind  deep  in  thought,  her  breast  heaving 
with  emotion,  and  at  length  the  words  escape  her  lips: 

“ He  said,  ‘ Never,  never  ! 9 ” 

“ Who  said  never?”  demands  a voice  at  her  side. 

In  surprise  she  looks  up,  and  meets  the  burning  eyes  of 
Jem  Blake  fixed  greedily  upon  her  face. 

“ What  are  you  doing  here?”  she  asks,  coldly  and  with 
unconscious  hauteur. 

“Pm  here  to  speak  with  you,”  he  replies,  doggedly.  “I 
told  you  the  time  would  come  when  you  should  listen  to 
me,  and  it's  come  now  ! ” 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Hetty  looks  at  Jem  Blake  with  surprise,  not  unmixed 
with  anger. 

She  had  been  greatly  terrified  at  the  appearance  of  an 
infuriated  bull  in  the  same  field  as  herself,  but  she  is  not 
frightened  by  this  man,  who  is  far  more  dangerous  than 
the  bull ; and  she  says  haughtily  and  in  a tone  of  dis- 
pleasure : 

“ You  forget  yourself  and  don’t  go  the  way  to  make  me 
listen  to  you  with  patience.” 

“You’ll  have  to  listen  to  me,  anyway,”  he  returns, 
doggedly;  “you’ve  put  me  off  long  enough  while  you’ve 
carried  on  with  my  lord,  and  I’ll  stand  it  no.  longer.  I’m  a 
desperate  man.” 

An  unusual  frown  contracts  Hetty’s  fair  brow. 

The  man’s  tone  is  threatening  and  insulting.  She  observes 
that  he  is  unusually  excited,  and  as  he  comes  close  to  her, 
and  his  hot  breath  fans  her  face,  she  recoils  a step  or  two 


Hold  fast!”  cries  Tavenner,  clasping  his  arm  round  the  girl’s  waist. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  129 

with  an  expression  of  disgust  at  the  smell  of  the  spirit  he 
has  been  drinking. 

He  observes  the  action  and  plants  himself  before  her  in 
such  a position  that  to  advance  she  must  come  close  to  him 
— to  retreat  she  must  step  back  into  the  river. 

Hetty  understands  by  this  time  that  she  has  no  option  but 
to  listen  to  what  her  importunate  and  unwelcome  admirer 
has  to  say  to  her,  while  she  looks  round  eagerly,  hoping 
that  her  father,  or  mother,  or  brother  will  come  in  sight  and 
thus  relieve  her  of  Jem  Blake's  presence. 

But  she  does  not  give  expression  to  this  hope,  and  her 
mind  is  too  full  of  other  thoughts  for  her  to  feel  a suspicion 
that  she  can  sutler  anything  more  than  annoyance  from  her 
present  companion. 

“Well,  what  have  you  to  say  to  me  that  will  not  admit  of 
delay  ? ” she  asks,  quietly. 

The  maiTs  face  changes  ; the  coldness  of  the  beautiful 
eyes  that  so  calmly  meet  his  own  strikes  a chill  into  his 
heart. 

Seeing  Hetty  so  calm,  however,  he  tries  to  control  him- 
self ; his  manner  becomes  a trifle  less  threatening,  and  he 
says,  in  a more  humble  tone  : 

“ My  uncle  died  a few  months  ago  in  America,  and  he's 
left  me  five  hundred  pounds.” 

“So  I have  heard,”  replies  Hetty,  indifferently. 

She  might  add  that  she  has  likewise  heard  with  pain  that 
Jem  is  rapidly  drinking  himself  to  death  on  the  strength  of 
the  legacy,  but  she  instinctively  feels  that  this  is  no  time 
for  commiseration  or  reproof,  so  she  listens  patiently  while 
he  continues : 

“Of  course,  everybody  has  heard  it,”  he  assents,  compla- 
cently, “ and  now  I can  afford  it  I mean  to  get  married.  Now 
you  know  what  I'm  driving  at,  I s'pose  ? ” 

“ How  should  I know  what  you  are  driving  at  ? But  be 
quick,  please ; I want  to  get  home,  or  my  mother  will  come 
to  look  for  me.” 


130 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“ And  you  think  that  will  frighten  me,  my  pretty  one,  d 6 
you  ?”  he  asks,  with  a half-drunken  laugh.  “Not  a bit  of 
it ; but  HI  get  to  the  end  of  my  story  in  a hurry.  I want 
to  get  married,  and  I mean  to  marry  you.” 

“ It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  want  to  share  your  money  with 
me,”  replies  Hetty,  in  the  same  freezing  tone,  “but  I can- 
not accept  it,  and  you  must  know  that  my  mother  has  very 
different  views  for  me,  to  say  nothing  of  my  own  feelings.” 
“No,  you  don't  seem  to  say  much  about  your  own  feel- 
ings,” he  retorts,  tauntingly,  “though  you  show  pretty 
plainly  that  you're  not  too  much  in  love  with  my  Lord 
Claude.” 

The  swift  blood  dyes  Hetty's  cheeks  a brighter  red  at  this 
home  thrust,  but  she  retorts,  with  spirit : 

“ If  I am  not  in  love  with  Lord  Claude  I certainly  am  not 
in  love  with  you,  so  ive  will  end  this  fruitless  discussion.  I 
am  sorry  to  vex  you,”  she  adds,  observing  the  evil  scowl  that 
comes  over  his  face,  “ but  you  must  always  have  known  that 
what  you  propose  is  impossible.” 

“ And  why  should  I have  known  it  ? ” he  asks,  insolently. 
“How  much  better  are  you  than  me,  I'd  like  to  know? ” 
She  makes  no  answer,  but  bites  her  lips,  resolved  not  to 
bandy  words  with  him. 

“And  what's  your  father.  I'd  like  to  know?”  he  con- 
tinues, invoice  and  manner  that  are  now  positively  abusive. 
“ He  started  as  a stable-helper,  like  I did,  and  he  ain't  so 
much  better  off  than  me  now,  and  he'd  be  w^orse  off  if 
my  lord  hadn't  taken  a fancy  to  your  pretty  face.  But 
Lord  Claude  don't  mean  to  marry  you  ; devil  a bit  of  it. 
He  makes  believe  that  he  does,  to  throwT  dust  in  your 
mother's  eyes.  But  he's  a gay  young  spark,  is  Lord 
Claude ; he  don't  care  what  he  says  or  what  he  spends  to 
gratify  his  fancy.  But  he  soon  tires  of  his  toys ; he's  done 
it  before,  to  my  knowledge,  and  he'd  serve  you  in  the  same 
fashion  if  I hadn't  made  up  my  mind  to  have  you  myself.” 
The  heightened  color  in  Hetty's  cheeks,  the  flash  of 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


131 


anger  in  her  glorious  eyes,  show  that  her  spirit  is  now 
thoroughly  aroused,  and  she  cries,  indignantly: 

“ I will  listen  to  no  more  of  this ; let  me  pass  this 
instant ! ” 

For  he  has  planted  himself  in  her  way,  and  when  she 
turns  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  he  springs  before  her  and 
bars  the  path. 

“Not  a bit  of  it,”  he  replies,  savagely.  “You  don't 
leave  me  now  till  you've  sworn  to  marry  me  as  soon  as  I've 
got  a license  ready.  You'll  swear  it  on  this  book,”  he  con- 
tinues, producing  a small  Testament  from  an  inner  pocket, 
“or  you'll  go  into  the  river.” 

The  river  ! 

The  words  send  a cold  thrill  through  the  girl's  heart;  she 
had  forgotten  the  river,  by  the  margin  of  which  she  had 
been  walking  when  Jem  Blake  so  suddenly  came  upon  her; 
she  turns  quickly  now,  and  finds  that  she  is  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  path — that  another  step  backward  would  have 
thrown  her  into  the  deep  and  sluggish  stream. 

As  she  realizes  the  nearness  of  the  danger,  the  man's 
threats  acquire  additional  significance. 

She  cannot  swim,  she  has  been  warned  again  and  again 
of  the  depth  and  danger  of  the  stream  in  this  part  of  the 
grounds,  and  she  looks  about  in  vain  for  help  against  this 
man,  whose  hand  may  in  a moment  consign  her  to  a watery 
grave. 

In  this  one  brief  moment  thoughts  pass  through  her 
mind  with  lightning  speed. 

Lord  Claude  Irongate's  love  for  her,  her  love  for  Gilbert 
Tavenner,  hitherto  unconfessed  and  barely  admitted  by 
her  own  heart;  the  life  which  this  man  at  her  side  offers  to 
her,  a condition  of  existence  compared  to  which  her  mother's 
destiny  was  bliss  indeed. 

For  her  mother  made  her  own  choice;  love — all-absorbing, 
passionate  love — gilded  the  first  months  at  any  rate  of  her 
married  life — and  Love  is  such  a potent  power,  that  he  can 


132 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


make  the  cabin  of  a peasant  far  more  to  be  desired  than 
the  palace  of  a king. 

But  there  is  no  love  here;  none  on  the  girl's  part,,  at  any 
rate. 

On  the  contrary,  there  is  repulsion,  loathing  amounting 
almost  to  detestation  ; and  Hetty,  as  she  looks  at  the  calm, 
shining  river,  then  turns  again  and  gazes  at  the  man  who 
has  offered  her  the  choice  between  becoming  his  wife  or 
sinking  at  once  into  the  cold  arms  of  death,  feels  that,  if 
driven  to  extremity,  the  fall  into  the  deep  water  will  be  of 
the  two  the  lesser  evil. 

“Will  you  swear  ? ” Jem  asks,  gloomily. 

He  has  seen  the  sudden  lighting  up  of  her  countenance, 
as  her  choice  is  mentally  made,  and  in  his  inmost  soul  he 
feels  that  she  is  about  to  escape  him. 

For  one  brief  second  the  temptation  presents  itself  to  her 
to  take  the  oath  he  exacts,  and  afterward  to  defy  him. 

But  she  quickly  scouts  the  idea  as  utterly  unworthy  to  be 
entertained. 

“You  will  be  sorry  for  having  spoken  and  acted  like  this 
when  you  are  calmer,  Jem  ; it  isn't  like  you  to  behave  in 
this  fashion.” 

“No,  because  I thought  I'd  win  you  by  waiting,”  he 
replies,  doggedly ; “but  I find  waiting  is  no  good,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  be  put  off  any  longer,  so  now  you  can  make 
your  choice.  There's  the  river  and  here's  the  book,  which 
is  it  to  be  ? ” 

But  even  as  he  speaks,  she  takes  an  unexpected  spring 
and  darts  past  him. 

She  cannot  go  in  the  direction  she  would  like  to  take, 
leading  either  to  the  stables  or  the  house ; the  only  way 
open  to  her  is  to  run  along  the  path  to  a gate  that  is  usually 
kept  locked,  but  that  leads  into  a lane  by  which  pedestrians 
can  walk  from  the  high-road  to  the  river. 

It  was  through  this  gate  she  came  on  her  way  home  that 
day  when  she  escaped  from  the  bull ; for  the  public  path 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


133 


from  the  town  along  the  river's  side  ends  here,  and  tall 
palings  fence  off  the  lane  from  the  grounds  of  Stanmoor. 

There  is  a chance,  and  only  a chance,  that  some  person 
may  be  walking  in  the  lane  or  by  the  river,  just  beyond 
these  grounds,  a man  who  will  save  her,  or  whose  presence 
will  deter  Jem  Blake  from  carrying  out  his  murderous 
designs,  and  terror  lends  wings  to  her  feet  as  she  speeds 
over  the  ground,  the  scoundrel  in  hot  pursuit  after  her. 

She  is  the  first  to  reach  the  gate,  but  it  is  locked  ; her 
pursuer  is  close  at  her  heels. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  the  ground  just  here 
rises  steeply,  and  trees  grow  thickly  to  the  water’s  edge. 

The  lane  is  rather  steep  likewise,  the  fence  is  out  of 
repair,  the  whole  place  having  been  more  or  less  neglected 
since  it  ceased  to  be  the  residence  of  a gentleman ; the 
consequence  being  that  anybody  who  wishes  to  overlook 
this  portion  of  the  grounds  can  very  easily  do  so. 

If  Hetty  were  not  so  close  pressed  by  her  pursuer,  she 
could  easily  get  out  of  the  grounds,  although  the  gate  is 
locked ; but  there  is  no  time  for  this,  she  can  only  cling  to 
the  gate  and  shriek,  “ Help,  help ! Murder,  murder ! ” 
before  Jem  Blake  is  trying  to  tear  her  loose  from  her  hold 
and  drag  her  toward  the  river,  which  is  only  three  or  four 
yards  distant. 

“ You’ll  not  escape  me  like  this,”  growls  the  brutal  fellow, 
viciously ; “ I’ll  swing  for  you  if  you  don’t  wed  me.  I’ll 
give  you  one  more  chance,  and  this  is  the  last  one  ; will 
you  swear  the  oath  I bid  you  ? ” 

Her  silent  answer  is  to  get  a firmer  hold  upon  the  gate, 
and  to  raise  her  voice  again  in  a piercing  shriek  that  echoes 
through  the  still  air,  and  startles  the  birds  on  the  leafy 
trees. 

“Confound  you!”  mutters  the  scoundrel,  exerting  all  his 
strength  to  wrench  her  from  her  hold  ; “ stop  that  infernal 
row,,  or  I’ll  dash  your  brains  out!  ” 


134 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


And  as  she  is  silent,  dreading  that  he  may  keep  his  word, 
he  asks  again  : 

“ Will  yon  swear  ?” 

’ “No;  I will  die  first,”  she  replies,  desperately,  turning 
to  face  him. 

“ Then  die  yon  shall,  ” he  retorts,  with  a fearful  oath. 

The  next  instant  he  has  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  is 
carrying  her  toward  the  river. 

Hetty  gives  herself  up  for  lost ; her  strength  is  exhausted. 

That  brief  run,  those  loud  cries,  her  frantic  hold  of  the 
gate  from  whence  she  has  been  ruthlessly  torn,  have  taken 
the  power  of  further  physical  resistance  from  her. 

She  no  longer  struggles  against  her  fate;  she  does  not 
even  cry  out  again. 

Entreaties  she  feels  to  be  useless,  protests  to  be  vain ; in 
this  struggle  against  brute  force  she  is  vanquished,  and  she 
closes  her  eyes  and  breathes  a silent  prayer,  every  instant 
expecting  the  shock  of  the  cold  water,  and  the  dreadful 
sensation  of  sinking  into  its  depths. 

The  distance  which  Jem  Blake  has  to  carry  her  to  the 
river’s  brink  is  only  a few  yards,  but  in  these  brief  seconds, 
when  life  seems  so  near  an  end,  and  death  so  imminent, 
the  events  of  the  past  few  months  crowd  in  upon  her  brain, 
and  the  unconfessed  love  in  her  heart  throbs  aloud  for  one 
glimpse,  only  one  more  glimpse,  of  the  loved  one  before  life 
and  love  shall  cease  and  be  no  more. 

Suddenly  her  hopes  and  fears  come  to  a standstill. 

She  experiences  a shock ; she  is  falling,  she  hears  a 
loud  splash  as  of  a heavy  body  falling  into  the  water,  and 
she  closes  her  eyes  tightly,  holds  her  breath  and  wonders 
and  wonders  — as  one  does  wonder  at  any  moment  of  great 
peril  — what  is  the  sensation  of  dying. 

“ Poor  darling,  she  has  fainted  ! ” murmurs  a voice  above 
her. 

And  she  opens  her  eyes,  looks  up  suddenly,  sees  the  face 
of  Gilbert  Tavenner  bending  over  her,  and,  still  under  the 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


135 


impression  that  she  has  been  very  near  to  death,  that  per- 
haps she  has  passed  the  dark  portal,  a glad  radiance  comes 
over  her  lovely  face.  She  holds  out  her  hands  to  him  with 
a sweet  expression  of  glad  trustfulness  in  her  eyes,  and  mur- 
murs, dreamily : 

“ Then  we  are  in  heaven  ! ” 

“I  wish  we  were,  my  dear,”  replies  Gilbert  Tavenner,  in 
the  flesh,  and  with  an  uneasy  laugh.  “ We  should  not  then 
have  to  consider  the  prejudices  of  parents  or  the  opinions 
of  the  world.  But  who  is  that  fellow  from  whom  I have 
just  rescued  you  ?” 

His  first  words  rouse  her.  She  is  seated  upon  the  grass 
where  she  has  fallen  ; her  feet  are  so  near  the  river  that  if 
she  were  to  drop  one  of  her  shoes  it  would  fall  into  the 
water ; she  presses  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  then  looks 
about  her  again,  and  now  she  perceives  a man  in  the  water, 
swimming  down  the  stream  as  fast  as  he  can,  but  making  for 
the  opposite  bank. 

Her  first  impulse  now  is  to  scramble  to  her  feet,  then  she 
looks  at  Tavenner  with  a soft  wonderment  in  her  eyes,  and 
she  asks,  timidly  : 

“ Have  you  saved  me  again  ? ” 

“ Yes,  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  be  on  the  right 
spot  at  the  right  moment,”  he  replies,  with  a tender  smile ; 
“ but  who  is  that  man  — why  was  he  trying  to  drown  you  ? ” 

“His  name  is  Jem  Blake,”  she  replies,  drooping  her 
white  eyelids  ; “ he  was  one  of  the  grooms  at  Stanmoor,  but 
a relative  of  his  has  left  him  some  money  and  he  wanted  me 
to  promise  to  marry  him.” 

“ And  you  would  not  promise  ? ” he  asks,  in  a tone  that 
makes  her  lift  her  head  suddenly  ; her  eyes  flash  and  the 
word  “I  ! ” escapes  her  lips. 

Only  for  an  instant,  however. 

The  look  in  his  eyes  makes  her  droop  her  own  head 
again,  and  she  says,  in  a low  tone  : 


136 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“No ; I would  rather  have  died  than  made  such  a prom- 
ise.” 

“ Ah  ! then  it  is  well  for  all  of  us  that  I came  this  way  in 
the  nick  of  time/’  he  responds  ; “and  yet  it  is  the  merest 
chance  in  the  world  that  brings  me  here.” 

“ Yes,  I thought  you  were  on  your  way  to  Bulgaria/’  she 
says,  impulsively.  “ I thought  that  perhaps  I should  never 
see  you  again.” 

“ But  how  should  you  know  anything  about  my  going  to 
Bulgaria  ? ” he  asks,  in  surprise. 

And  she  answers,  without  waiting  to  consider  the  pru- 
dence of  her  words : 

“ Lord  Claude  showed  me  this  morning  the  letter  that 
you  had  written  to  him  about  his  sister.” 

“ Lord  Claude  showed  it  to  you  ? ” he  asks,  in  tones  of 
mingled  amazement  and  displeasure. 

And  Hetty  droops  her  head  still  lower,  while  a burning 
blush  covers  her  cheeks  as  she  murmurs,  faintly: 

“ Yes.” 

“Come,  I must  know  more  about  this,”  says  Tavenner, 
decisively.  “ That  fellow  won’t  trouble  you  any  more  at 
present ; there  is  a seat  under  that  tree,  where  you  will  be 
sheltered  from  the  sun.” 

Hetty  cannot  judge  from  his  tone  whether  he  is  pleased 
or  angry ; she  is  only  conscious  of  the  bliss  of  being  in  his 
presence. 

More  she  does  not  ask,  does  not  dare  to  hope  for. 

Her  heart  is  beating  wildly,  as  it  never  beat  before,  and 
she  follows  him  meekly  to  the  garden-seat  indicated,  and 
seats  herself  in  the  farthest  corner,  clasps  her  small, 
shapely  hands  upon  her  knees,  and  with  downcast  eyes  and 
with  wavering  color  on  her  cheeks  waits  for  him  to  begin. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


137 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

Hetty  Hamblin  is  leaning  against  one  arm  of  the  long 
garden  seat.  Gilbert  Tavenner  is  at  the  opposite  end. 

There  is  ample  room  for  two  persons  to  sit  between  them, 
but  as  nobody  else  is  there  the  space  remains  vacant,  both 
of  them  seeming  to  be  anxious  to  keep  as  far  from  the  other 
as  possible. 

Perhaps  Hetty  is  the  most  nervous  of  the  two.  She  holds 
a flower  in  her  hand  that  she  had  fastened  at  her  throat  this 
morning,  and  which  had  escaped  destruction  in  her  strug- 
gle with  Jem  Blake  ; but  now  in  her  agitation  she  is  pulling 
it  to  pieces,  unconscious  of  what  she  is  doing. 

Gilbert  watches  her  silently. 

They  had  come  here  ostensibly  to  talk,  but  words  seem  to 
fail  both  of  them ; or  it  may  be  that  this  silence  is  more 
eloquent  than  speech,  for  neither  of  them  feels  it  irksome. 
She  is  disinclined  to  break  it,  and  it  is  only  the  recollection 
that  he  is  at  this  moment  due  at  Hindfleet  Hall  that  makes 
Gilbert  rouse  himself  to  say,  thoughtfully  : 

“ We  came  here  to  talk  matters  over,  did  we  not  ? ” 

“Yes,”  assents  Hetty,  faintly. 

“To  begin,  then,”  he  continues,  “do  you  mind  telling 
me  how  it  happens  that  you  and  Lord  Claude  Irongate  are 
upon  such  terms  that  he  should  show  you  his  private 
letters  ? ” 

A sigh,  that  is  deep  enough  for  a sob,  makes  poor  Hetty’s 
breast  heave  with  emotion. 

She  fears  that  what  she  is  going  to  say  will  forever  lower 
her  in  the  esteem  of  the  man  before  her ; but  she  is  not  a 
girl  to  shirk  the  truth,  however  much  that  truth  may  be 
against  herself ; and  now,  though  the  color  forsakes  her 
cheeks  and  the  light  of  love  fades  slowly  out  of  her  eyes, 
she  steadies  her  voice  and  says,  slowly  : 

“You  remember  the  afternoon  when  we  escaped  from  the 

bull  ?” 


138  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

He  mutters  an  affirmative. 

“When  I returned  home/’  she  continues,  “my  mothet 
did  not  observe  my  agitation,  nor  did  she  make  any 
remark  about  the  length  of  time  I had  been  away,  for  Lord 
Claude  had  been  with  her  during  my  absence,  and  had  told 
her  that  he  wished  to  make  me  his  wife  as  soon  as  his  sister 
was  married  ; and  — and  ” — she  falters  for  a moment,  then 
nerves  herself  to  say  — “and  he  told  her  that  you  were 
engaged  to  mary  Lady  Daphne.” 

“ What  had  my  engagement  to  do  with  the  matter  ? ” he 
cries,  hotly. 

“I  don’t  know,”  she  replies,  in  a tone  in  which  she 
struggles  hard  to  keep  out  all  sound  of  pain.  “I  suppose 
he  told  her  about  it  to  account  for  his  not  wishing  to  get 
married  at  once.” 

“Well,  and  what  did  you  say  when  you  heard  all  this  ?” 
asked  Gilbert,  sternly. 

“ I said  at  first  that  I wouldn’t  marry  him,  that  I disliked 
him  exceedingly,  that  I would  rather  be  a poor  working 
girl  all  my  life  than  be  his  wife.  At  first  my  mother  was 
angry,  then  she  wept  and  entreated  me,  for  her  sake,  not 
to  be  so  self-willed.  My  mother  was  a lady  once,  you 
know,”  adds  the  girl,  pitifully,  “and  she  ran  away  from  her 
father’s  house  to  marry  my  father,  and  I am  afraid  she  has 
regretted  the  step  ever  since.” 

She  pauses,  her  eyes  drooping,  her  hands  clasped,  her 
breast  heaving  tumultuously. 

Surely  if  anything  could  warn  Gilbert  Tavenner  of  the 
unwisdom  of  emulating  King  Cophetua,  and  giving  his 
hand  to  a beggar-maid,  it  would  be  this  simple  story  of 
Mrs.  Hamblin’s  life,  told  in  a few  words  by  one  of  the 
principal  sufferers.  But  he  is  thinking  rather  of  the 
speaker  than  of  what  she  says,  and  the  lesson  passes  by  him 
unheeded. 

Seated  as  he  is,  so  near  to  her,  and  yet  so  far  away,  with 
the  compelling  power  of  mutual  love  linking  them  together; 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


139 

with  all  the  arguments  which  prudence  and  worldly  wis- 
dom and  a high  sense  of  honor  can  bring  to  bear  upon  his 
mind  keeping  them  apart,  Gilbert  Tavenner  has  self-control 
and  manliness  enough  to  assume  an  indifference  which  he 
does  not  feel,  though  he  watches  Hetty  intently,  notes 
every  curve  of  her  graceful  form,  the  perfect  molding  and 
the  delicate  tints  of  her  beautiful  face,  and  he  sighs  audibly; 
the  temptation  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  to  call  her  his  be- 
loved one,  to  kiss  her  sweet  lips,  her  eyes,  her  brow,  to  hold 
her  as  his  own  against  all  the  world,  being  almost  more 
than  he  can  resist. 

But  he  does  resist  it. 

A vow  on  one  side,  her  spotless  innocence  on  the  other, 
nerve  him  to  keep  the  one  and  spare  the  other,  and,  after 
another  deep-drawn  sigh,  he  breaks  the  silence,  and  asks: 

“Then  I am  to  understand  that  your  mother’s  tears 
melted  your  resolution,  and  you  at  last  consented  to  do  as 
she  wished.” 

“No,  not  exactly,”  she  replies,  in  a slow,  sad  tone; 
“ somehow  I could  not  promise  that.  It  seemed  to  hurt  me 
here  whenever  I tried  to  do  so  ” — and  she  presses  her  left 
hand  upon  her  heart  — “but  I at  length  consented  to  try  to 
like  him,  and  my  mother  at  the  same  time  promised  me  that 
I should  not  marry  any  one  until  I am  eighteen.” 

“A  strange  compact!”  he  mutters,  bitterly;  “and  a 
dangerous  one.  It  would  be  better  for  you,  my  poor  child, 
to  either  accept  Lord  Claude  unconditionally  or  send  him 
quite  away.” 

“ Do  you  think  so  ? ” asks  Hetty,  quietly  ; but  there  is  a 
flash  of  light  in  her  eyes  which  he  does  not  understand. 

If  he  could  read  her  thoughts  he  would  be  inclined  to  say 
that  girls  are  “kittle  cattle,”  for  she  takes  his  words  as  a 
distinct  recommendation  to  accept  Lord  Claude  without 
reserve,  and  she  mentally  resents  it  accordingly. 

“Yes,”  he  muses,  speaking  his  thoughts  aloud,  “it  ought 
to  be  one  thing  or  another.  But  yet,  despite  all  you  have 


140  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

told  me,  I cannot  understand  why  he  should  show  you  my 
letter  concerning  his  sister.” 

“ He  showed  it  to  me,  I think,  because  he  was  vexed  at 
not  being  able  to  get  her  ‘ off  his  hands/  to  use  his  own 
words,”  she  replies,  steadily  and  coldly,  still  nursing  her 
resentment  against  him. 

“ But  why  is  he  in  such  a hurry  ? ” asks  Gilbert. 

“Because  he  is  now  in  a hurry  to  marry  me,”  she  replies, 
quietly.  “ He  asked  me  this  morning  if  I thought  I could 
live  under  the  same  roof  with  Lady  Daphne,  but  I declined. 
I suppose  you  would  not  advise  me  to  make  that  experi- 
ment ? ” 

“No!”  exclaims  Gilbert,  passionately ; “she  hates  you 
with  a hatred  that,  happily,  is  rare,  even  among  women.” 

“ Why  does  she  hate  me  ? ” asks  Hetty,  forgetting  her 
resentment,  in  surprise  at  this  startling  statement. 

His  face  flushes  as  her  star-like  eyes  look  so  steadily  into 
his. 

To  answer  her  question  truthfully,  to  say,  “Because  I 
love  you  ; because  she  knows  that  you  are  her  rival  in  my 
heart ; ” would  be  to  abandon  all  his  defenses,  to  cast  him- 
self a suppliant  at  her  feet. 

The  temptation  to  thus  surrender  is  so  great  that  only 
his  vow  to  his  mother  keeps  him  now  from  saying  words 
that,  once  uttered,  can  never  be  unsaid.  He  knows  that  he 
ought  to  fly  from  Hetty’s  presence,  that  he  ought  to  put 
the  sea  and  the  mountains  and  the  rivers  between  himself 
and  her  ; and  he  rises  to  his  feet,  half  resolved  to  fly,  to 
say  good-by  abruptly,  and  leave  her. 

But  this  half  resolution  takes  him  only  a step  or  two. 

If  Hetty  were  in  the  slightest  degree  a coquette  ; if  she 
were  making  any  effort  whatever  to  win  him  ; if  she  smiled, 
or  pouted,  put  on  languishing  airs,  or  wept  and  appeared 
to  be  overcome  with  grief,  he  would  be  on  his  guard  at 
Once. 

There  is  nothing  of  this  about  her,  however.  She  is  one 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


141 


of  Nature's  gentlewomen ; she  is  natural  as  an  untutored 
child ; she  never  forgets  her  lowly  position ; and  though 
Lord  Claude  is  her  suitor,  that  his  lordship  really  means  to 
marry  her,  yet  Hetty  has  never  assumed,  implied,  or  seemed 
to  think  it  possible  that  he  himself  can  love  her,  or  can 
entertain  the  thought  of  ever  making  her  his  wife. 

It  is  this  straightforward  innocence  that  appeals  to  his 
heart  more  even  than  her  beauty,  and  the  fact  that  thrice 
he  has  been  able  to  come  to  her  rescue  ; that  this  morning 
he  has,  without  doubt,  saved  her  life  ; all  gives  her  a claim 
upon  his  consideration,  which  makes  an  abrupt  departure 
upon  his  part  next  to  impossible. 

In  addition  to  this  comes  the  feeling  that  he  must  offer 
some  justification  for  his  own  conduct. 

No  one  knows  better  than  himself  that,  if  he  has  not 
talked  of  love  to  this  girl,  his  eyes  have  told  the  story  that 
his  lips  were  too  prudent  to  speak ; and  his  heart  throbs 
with  the  intoxicating  consciousness  that  her  eyes  have 
returned  the  lingering  gaze  — that  if  he  opened  wide  his 
arms  to  her  and  said  “ Come,”  that  her  heart  would  respond 
to  the  call,  as  the  needle  vibrates  to  the  pole. 

Thus  battling  with  his  own  heart,  he  paces  to  and  fro 
among  the  trees,  his  head  bent  in  thought,  while  Hetty  sits 
on  the  garden-seat  watching  him. 

How  Hetty  admires  Gilbert  Tavernier's  tall,  stalwart 
form,  his  broad  shoulders,  his  head  set  so  grandly  upon 
them  ; his  handsome  face,  his  dark  brown  waving  hair ; and 
his  eyes,  which  she  cannot  see  now  for  the  long,  curling 
lashes  that  hide  them  as  they  are  bent  upon  the  ground, 
but  the  color  of  which  she  knows  so  well. 

Oh,  if  Lord  Claude  were  like  him ! Ay,  if  Jem  Blake 
had  been  like  him  in  heart  and  soul,  as  well  as  person,  then 
how  gladly  and  without  coercion  would  she  have  given  the 
promise  that  was  demanded  from  her  on  the  pain  of  death  ! 

She  is  thus  musing,  when  he  stops  suddenly  in  his  walk 
and  flings  himself  down  on  the  seat  by  her  side, 
xo 


142 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ Hetty,”  he  says,  abruptly,  “I  think  I ought  to  tell  you 
why  I cannot  marry  ; or  rather,”  he  adds,  correcting  him- 
self, “ why  I can  only  marry  a woman  in  my  own  rank  of 
life.” 

She  looks  at  him,  open-eyed,  in  unbounded  surprise,  and 
if  he  were  not  so  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts,  he  would 
realize  that  this  confidence  is  the  very  last  thing  she  would 
expect  of  him  — that  for  the  moment,  indeed,  she  does  not 
understand  why  it  is  given. 

But  he  is  talking  to  himself  quite  as  much  as  he  is  talk- 
ing to  her ; he  is  trying  to  array  all  the  obstacles  to  his 
marrying  her  before  his  own  mind,  to  strengthen  him  to 
resist  the  sweet  temptation. 

And  she  listens  in  amazement,  not  at  what  he  tells  her  so 
much  as  the  manner  in  which  he  speaks,  as  though  she  had 
made  some  claim  upon  him  which  he  is  trying  to  demonstrate 
that  he  cannot  satisfy ; till  at  length  indignation  and 
maidenly  pride  get  the  better  of  all  other  considerations, 
and  she  cries,  impatiently  : 

“ Good  heavens  ! Mr.  Tavenner,  I am  not  asking  you  to 
marry  me  ! ” 

“No,  Hetty;  but  if  it  were  not  for  these  obstacles,  I 
should  ask  you  to  marry  me,”  he  replies,  simply. 

His  words  silence  and  astonish  her  ; in  her  wildest  dreams 
the  idea  that  Mr.  Tavenner  would  think  of  marrying  her 
had  never  found  a place. 

The  news  that  he  was  engaged  to  Lady  Daphne  Irongate 
had,  it  is  true,  fallen  upon  her  heart  like  a blow ; but  still 
it  had  not  crushed  out  the  hope  that  she  would  one  day  be 
his  wife,  because  that  hope  had  never  taken  form  in  her 
breast. 

He  has  always  seemed  so  far  away  from  her,  so  far  above 
her,  that  her  own  love  for  him,  which  she  can  no  longer 
ignore,  has  seemed  rather  like 

The  desire  of  a moth  for  a star, 

Of  the  night  for  the  morrow, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 143 

than  an  earthly  love,  that  can  ever  attain  full  and  honora- 
ble fruition. 

Her  silence  torments  him. 

What  to  her  has  seemed  so  strange,  so  blissful,  so  over- 
whelming, has  in  it  nothing  wonderful  to  him,  because  it 
has  been  growing  in  his  mind  for  days  and  for  weeks  past ; 
and,  as  she  does  not  move  or  speak  — as  her  eyes  no  longer 
seek  his,  but  are  gazing  through  the  trees  in  the  direction 
of  the  river,  with  a far-away  look  in  them,  as  though  she 
were  communing  with  pure  spirits  who  might  not  reveal 
themselves  to  him  — he  grows  restless,  and  at  length  he 
asks,  impatiently : 

“ Why  don't  you  speak  to  me,  Hetty  ? Why  don't  you 
tell  me  that  I am  right,  or  convince  me  that  I am  wrong  ? ” 

She  draws  a long  breath,  as  if  it  took  her  some  time  and 
needed  a great  effort  to  come  back  to  earth. 

A faint  blush  steals  over  her  cheeks  — a smile  that  is  both 
sweet  and  sad  parts  her  lips  — and  she  answers,  simply  : 

“ What  can  I say  ? What  would  you  like  me  to  say  ? 

“ If  it  were  only  my  liking  to  be  considered  ! ” he  cries, 
impulsively,  his  passion  getting  the  mastery  of  his  reason, 
his  overmastering  desire  to  call  her  his  own  dwarfing  every 
other  consideration. 

And  even  as  he  speaks  he  is  moving  nearer  to  her,  when 
Hetty  says,  quietly : 

“ There  is  my  mother  coming  toward  us.  - Shall  we  go 
and  meet  her,  or  stay  where  we  are  ? ” 

“Stay  where  we  are,”  replies  Gilbert,  leaning  back  in  his 
own  corner  of  the  seat ; “ it  will  give  us  a second  or  two 
longer  together.  And  listen  to  me,  Hetty.  I am  going 
away  to-morrow  for  months,  it  may  be  for  years.  Perhaps 
we  shall  never  meet  again.  But  what  I have  told  you  is 
true,  and  if  my  mother  ever  absolves  me  from  my  vow,  and 
at  the  same  time  you  are  free,  I shall  come  and  ask  you  to 
share  my  lot  with  me.  I don't  ask  you  to  wait  for  me,  it 


144 


FOILED  BY  LOVE > 


will  not  be  fair  to  do  so,  but  I swear  that  1 will  nfcter  marry 
any  other  woman  while  you  are  free  ! ” 

The  girl  makes  no  answer.  She  can  only  listen  and  drink 
into  her  heart  every  word  that  he  utters,  for  her  mother  is 
rapidly  coming  near  her,  and  even  now  Mrs.  Hamblin  asks, 
angrily  : 

“Hetty,  what  are  you  doing  here?  You  ought  to  have^ 
come  in  to  dinner  an  hour  ago  ! ” 

She  looks  haughtily  and  inquiringly  at  Tavenner  as  she" 
speaks,  and  he,  gazing  at  her  with  an  interest  he  has  never 
before  felt  in  the  trainer’s  wife,  can  well  believe  her 
daughter’s  assertion  that  she  was  a lady ; and,  as  he  looks; 
at  her,  he  realizes  that  she  would  be  no  friend  to  his  suit, 
even  if  he  were  able  to  come  forward  openly  as  a claimant 
for  her  daughter’s  hand. 

But  he  rises  to  his  feet,  lifts  his  hat  courteously*  and 
says  : 

“Your  daughter  has  not  yet  recovered  from  her  fright  at 
nearly  being  the  victim  of  a madman.” 

“ A madman  ! ” repeats  Mrs.  Hamblin,  incredulously. 

Yes,”  he  replies,  quietly.  ° “I  was  walking  up  the  lane, 
Avhen  I heard  a shriek  for  help,  and  cries  o,f  ‘ Murder  ! ’ I 
leaped  the  fence,  saw  a man  carrying  a struggling  girl  to> 
the  river’s  brink.  I was  just  in  time  to  snatch  her  from 
his  grasp  as  he  was  about  to  leap  with  her  into  the  stream.”' 
“ And  that  girl  was  you,  Hetty  ? ” asks  her  mother,  still- 
disbelieving. 

“Yes,  mother,  it  was  I ; and  the  man  was  Jem  Blake,” 
replies  the  girl,  earnestly.  “ If  it  had  not  been  for  Mr. 
Tavenner,  I should  have  been  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river  now  ; and  see  how  my  hands  are  bruised  and  torn.” 
The  sight  of  her  daughter’s  sufferings  produces  an  instan- 
taneous change  in  Mrs.  Hamblin. 

Hetty’s  injured  fingers  convince  her  of  the  truth  of  what 
she  has  been  told  ; they  likewise  stifle  many  suspicions 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


145 


regarding  both  of  them  that  had  risen  in  her  breast,  and 
she  says,  gratefully  : 

“I  can  only  say  thank  you,  sir,  for  saving  my  daughter's 
life  ; but  now  I must  take  her  home.  Those  hands  must 
be  attended  to  at  once.” 

“Yes,  I had  no  idea  they  were  in  that  condition,”  he 
says,  with  almost  unnecessary  concern.  “ Good-by,  Hetty  ; 
take  care  of  yourself,  and  don't  wander  about  alone.  I go 
.abroad  to-morrow.  Good-day,  madam.” 

He  lifts  his  hat  to  Mrs.  Hamblin  and  turns  away. 

Thus  they  part ; these  two  whose  hearts  should  be  one. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Thkee  months  after  they  are  married,  Laurence  Trevor 
takes  his  young  bride  to  a pretty  house  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames,  which  he  has  purchased  for  her. 

He  wishes  to  be  kind  and  generous  to  Eugenie,  he  explains 
to  her  that  the  house  and  furniture  have  been  bought  in 
her  name,  and,  therefore,  are  absolutely  her  own  property; 
he  likewise  gives  her  a check-book,  and  tells  her  that  he  has 
so  arranged  his  affairs  that  she  shall  have  three  hundred  a 
year  for  her  own  dress  and  for  housekeeping  purposes. 

But  tears  rise  to  Eugenie's  eyes  as  she  accepts  the  check- 
book, and  she  asks,  pitifully: 

“ Are  you  going  away  from  me  ? Are  you  going  to  take  a 
long  journey,  that  you  thus  make  provision  for  my  wel- 
fare ? ” 

“I  don't  know,”  he  replies,  evasively,  “I  don't  know  that 
I shall  have  to  go  a long  journey  just  yet,  but  I shall  con- 
stantly have  to  make  short  ones.  And  I should  not  like 
you  to  be  straightened  for  money  at  any  time  during  my 
absence;  besides,  having  this  income  at  your  own  disposal, 
you  will  know  that  you  must  not  exceed  it.  ” 

“Yes,  that  is  true,”  she  responds,  cheerfully;  “but  could 


146 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


you  not  take  me  with  you,  Laurie  ? I would  not  be  any 
trouble;  I am  a capital  traveler,  and  I am  never  happy 
except  I am  with  you.  When  I am  alone,  I always  dread 
that  my  brother  or  Di  Castro  are  coming  to  take  me  away 
with  them.” 

“Your  brother  and  his  friend  have  no  doubt  gone  to 
Mexico,  and  will  trouble  themselves  no  more  about  you,  my 
dear,”  he  replies.  “ But  now  let  us  forget  all  about  them 
and  be  jolly.  Would  you  like  to  go  to  a theater  to-night  ? ” 

“Yes,  very  much,”  she  answers,  delightedly;  “if  you  can 
afford  it.” 

“Oh,  I can  afford  it,”  he  returns,  with  an  uneasy  laugh  ; 
“ but  see  that  you  dress  yourself  prettily,  and  I will  take  you 
to  the  Imperial  to  dine.  Your  new  cook  will  be  sure  not  to 
give  us  anything  fit  to  eat  to-night.” 

Eugenie  assents.  She  is  as  easily  pleased  as  a child  with 
a new  toy,  provided  her  husband  is  with  her.  It  is  only 
when  she  is  alone  that  the  solitude  of  her  position  terrifies 
her. 

She  has  no  friends  or  companions,  no  one  in  whose  sym- 
pathizing ear  she  can  confide  her  anxieties ; and  at  these 
times  she  will  sit  for  long  hours  during  the  day,  her  hands 
hanging  listlessly  upon  her  lap,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  vacancy, 
her  music,  her  painting  and  her  needle-work  neglected,  her 
thoughts  wandering  back  into  the  past,  unless  they  are 
vainly  trying  to  follow  her  absent  husband. 

If  she  were  a woman  of  more  energy  of  character  or  one 
more  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  she  would  make  some 
plan  for  following  him  when  he  leaves  her  and  for  being 
near  him  when  he  leasts  suspects  it. 

But  such  an  idea  as  this  never  enters  Eugenie's  simple, 
passionate  heart. 

She  has  never  in  her  life  traveled  alone.  To  walk  from 
her  brother's  house  in  Gordon  Square  to  the  British  Museum 
close  by  had  at  first  been  considered  so  unsafe  that  a servant 
accompanied  her ; and  though,  by  the  time  we  first  knew 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


147 


her,  she  had  got  over  this  timidity,  she  is  still  as  incapable 
as  a child  of  acting  or  thinking  for  herself  independently  of 
her  husband. 

Only  her  great  love  for  Trevor,  her  loathing  of  Di  Castro 
and  her  fear  of  her  brother  impelled  her  to  take  the  decided 
step  of  escaping  from  the  latter  as  she  had  done. 

She  has  nothing  of  which  to  complain  when  her  husband 
is  with  her ; perhaps  he  is  not  quite  as  lover-like  as  he  used 
to  be,  but  he  is  never  unkind ; and  if  he  would  spend  more 
time  in  her  society,  and  introduce  her  to  some  of  his  friends, 
she  would  be  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long. 

This  evening  she  forgets  all  her  discontent,  as  she  attires 
herself  in  a lemon-colored  dress  of  soft,  clinging  silk,  which 
shows  the  outline  of  her  figure,  and  offers  a bright  contrast 
to  her  dark  beauty. 

It  is  made  in  a classical  and  artistic  fashion,  too,  and  there 
is  something  about  her  face,  and  the  half-dreamy  manner 
in  which  she  moves  about,  that  would  make  any  stranger 
decide  she  must  be  an  artist,  a musician,  or  a poet. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  impression,  added  to  her  evident  love 
for  himself,  that  induced  Laurence  Trevor  to  commit  the 
imprudence  of  marrying  her.  As  he  looks  at  her  critically 
now,  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  have  been 
this  charm  ; and  he  asks  himself  a serious  question  regard- 
ing this  wife  of  his,  a question  which  he  almost  answers  in 
the  affirmative,  but  which,  unhappily  for  himself  and  for 
her,  he  never  again  repeats. 

He  is  very  attentive  to  her  this  evening.  They  dine  at 
nne  of  the  newest  and  largest  hotels  in  London,  then  they 
drive  to  Drury  Lane  Theater,  where  they  arrive  after  the 
play  has  well  begun. 

Trevor  h^d  secured  a box  near  the  stage,  but  on  the  same 
line  as  the  ;dress-circle,  and  Eugenie  is  presently  quite  as 
much  interested  in  looking  at  the  audience  as  at  the 
performers. 

Jt  is  the  first  time  she  has  been  in  an  English  theater  j 


148 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


everything  is  new  to  her,  and  she  sits  in  the  front  of  the  box 
and  uses  her  opera  glasses,  unconscious  of  the  attention  she 
is  herself  attracting. 

They  are  a remarkable  couple  at  all  times.  He  with  his 
bright  golden  hair,  his  long,  drooping  mustache,  his  blue 
eyes,  fair  complexion  and  patrician  features ; she  with  her 
large,  black  eyes,  her  dark  skin,  her  abundant  hair,  the 
deep,  rich  red  of  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  the  air  of  languor 
and  of  half-hidden  passion  which  such  a nature  as  hers 
must  always  express. 

No  one  meeting  them  can  fail  to  turn  and  look  a second 
time,  but  on  this  particular  evening  Eugenie  has  lost  the 
fear  of  her  brother  and  of  Di  Castro.  She  believes  that 
they  would  never  go  to  a theater  to  look  for  her,  and  she 
secretly  hopes  that,  satisfied  by  the  sight  of  her  certificate 
that  she  is  married,  her  brother  has  left  her  to  her  fate  and 
gone  off  to  Mexico,  as  he  intended  to  do. 

There  is  an  interval  between  the  acts.  The  house  is 
lighted  up,  and,  Trevor,  looking  from  his  box  toward  the 
stalls,  recognizes  the  face  of  a man  who  is  looking  at  him 
intently,  and  he  mutters  under  his  breath  : 

“What  an  infernal  nuisance!  I must  go  and  speak  to 
him  or  he  will  come  up  here  and  I shall  have  to  introduce 
them.” 

A few  seconds  afterward  he  says,  carelessly,  to  Eugenie  : 

“ There  is  a man  down-stairs  that  I know.  I shall  be 
back  soon ; don’t  go  out  of  the  box  till  I return,” 

Then  he  leaves  her,  and  the  young  wife  looks  down  into> 
the  stalls  curiously,  eager  to  see'  the  man  whom  her  hus- 
band knows. 

The  man  in  question  is  older  than  Trevor ; he  is  good- 
looking  and  carefully  dressed,  but  his  full,  gray  eyes  are 
half  hidden  by  the  heavy  eyelids,  and  there  is  something  in 
his  manner  and  in  the  way  in  which  he  stares  up  at  herself 
that  makes  Eugenie  look  over  his  head  and  appear  not  to, 
see  him. 


F OILED  BY  LOVE. 


149 


If  the  poor  girl  could  overhear  the  conversation  between 
this  man  and  her  husband,  could  even  hear  the  names  by 
which  they  address  each  other,  her  surprise  would  be 
unbounded.  But  she  does  not ; her  awakening  from  her 
dream  of  happiness  is  yet  to  come. 

The  curtain  rises  ; Eugenie’s  attention  is  attracted  to  the 
stage.  When  she  looks  back  to  the  stalls  her  husband  and 
his  companion  have  disappeared,  and  she  naturally  expects 
that  they  will  come  to  her  ; but  they  do  not.  More  than 
half-an-hour  elapses  before  Trevor  returns,  alone,  and  then 
his  wife  finds  him  taciturn  and  moody. 

“Who  is  the  gentleman  who  has  kept  you  so  long?”  she 
asks,  with  natural  curiosity. 

“A  man  whom  I have  known  for  a long  time,”  he 
replies,  evasively. 

“He  has  a name,  hasn’t  he?”  she  persists. 

And  he  retorts,  angrily: 

“ He  has  a name,  but  I didn’t  choose  to  introduce  him  to 
you.  He  isn’t  the  kind  of  man  one  would  take  into  the 
bosom  of  one’s  family.  He  did  very  well  for  a bachelor 
acquaintance.  And  now,  if  you  are  tired,  we  will  go 
home.” 

“Yes,  I am  ready,”  she  replies. 

But  just  then  the  curtain  falls.  Her  wraps  have  to  be 
put  on,  and  the  corridors  and  staircase  are  crowded  by  the 
time  they  get  down  into  the  entrance  hall. 

Here  Eugenie  sees  her  husband’s  late  companion,  who 
does  not  attempt  to  join  them,  though  he  stares  at  her  in 
such  a manner  as  to  make  the  warm  blood  mantle  her 
cheeks  with  confusion. 

What  does  his  glance  mean  ? Is  it  a look  of  pity  or  of 
bold  admiration  ? 

She  cannot  tell,  she  has  scarcely  time  to  ask  herself  the 
question  before  Trevor,  who  does  not  observe  him,  hurries 
her  past ; and  then  she  utters  a cry  of  terror,  as  a bearded, 


150 


FOILED  BY  LOVti. 


black-eyed  Mexican  springs  forward,  clutches  her  by  the 
wrist,  and  cries  aloud  : 

“ Eugenie  de  Maestro,  I find  you  at  last ! ” 

“Unhand  this  lady,  she  is  my  wife!”  exclaims  Trevor, 
, haughtily ; and  the  man,  staring  at  both  of  them,  is  hustled 
aside  by  the  police,  and  in  the  confusion  Eugenie  and  her 
companion  hurry  through  the  crowd,  get  into  a hansom 
cab,  and  are  rapidly  driven  away. 

“ Who  was  that  ? ” demands  Trevor  of  the  trembling 
woman  at  his  side. 

And  she  nervously  answers  : 

“It  is  Di  Castro.” 

“Ah! ’’mutters  Trevor;  “ a regular  brigand.  I thought 
it  could  not  be  your  brother  ; we  should  not  have  disposed 
of  him  so  easily.  But  it  was  very  awkward  happening 
where  it  did  ; however,  it  could  not  be  helped.  I was 
obliged  to  claim  you  as  my  wile,  or  he  would  have  carried 
you  off  under  my  very  nose.” 

She  nestles  closer  to  his  side,  and  whispers  low  : 

“I  am  your  wife,  dearest.” 

Her  fear  of  Di  Castro  had  begun  to  die  away ; now  it 
revives  again.  She  had  hoped  that  the  baffled  Mexican  had 
gone  back  to  his  own  country,  but  now  she  knows  that  he 
is  still  in  England,  and  she  will  never  feel  safe  unless  her 
husband  is  near  her. 

It  is  therefore  with  a distinct  foreboding  of  evil  that  she 
listens  to  Trevor  the  next  morning  at  breakfast,  when  he 
tells  her  that  he  shall  have  to  leave  her  again  for  a few 
days. 

“But  you  have  now  a house  of  your  own  to  look  after,” 
he  continues,  lightly ; “ you  will  have  to  arrange  every- 
thing to  your  own  liking,  and  get  your  servants  into  order. 
If  I were  you,  also,  I should  start  a new  picture ; there  is 
nothing  like  occupation  for  keeping  one's  mind  from 
brooding.” 

“ Why  should  I have  cause  for  brooding  ? ” she  asks. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  151 

roused  to  self-assertion  by  bis  words,  which  seem  to 
imply  that  she  will  but  rarely  see  him.  “Why  should  I 
be  left  alone  in  this  manner  ? ” she  continues.  “ I am  your 
wife,  and  I have  a right  to  go  where  you  go.” 

“You  would  sometimes  find  it  very  unpleasant  to  go 
where  I go,”  he  retorts,  with  an  angry  laugh.  “But  it  is 
useless  making  a fuss,  my  dear ; if  you  are  ill-tempered  and 
full  of  complaints  when  you  see  me,  it  will  only  make  me 
stay  away  the  longer ; while  if  you  are  smiling  and  are  glad 
to  receive  me,  I shall  spend  as  much  time  with  you  as 
possible.” 

Eugenie  bites  her  tongue  to  keep  unsaid  the  stinging 
words  that  seem  as  though  they  will  be  uttered,  and  her 
cheek  flushes  hotly ; but  she  restrains  herself  by  a great 
effort,  and  tries  to  smile  and  seem  cheerful,  though  to  a 
man  who  unselfishly  loved  her  the  smile  would  seem  more 
pitiful  than  tears. 

Trevor  scarcely  notices  it,  however  ; he  is  getting  tired  of 
the  tie  which  binds  him  to  Eugenie,  and  in  this  frame  of 
mind  he  leaves  her,  promising  to  write  on  the  following 
day,  and  saying  vaguely  that  he  shall  come  home  again  as 
soon  as  he  can. 

The  rest  of  that  day  Eugenie  spends  in  weeping. 

“ What  is  the  use  of  a pretty  house  in  which  to  live,  and 
of  money  to  spend,  if  you  have  no  one  with  whom  you  can 
share  it  ? ” Eugenie  asks  herself  the  question,  passionately, 
and  casts  about  in  her  own  mind  whether  she  knows  any- 
body whom  she  can  ask  to  come  and  see  her. 

She  cannot  write  to  any  of  her  brother’s  friends,  for  fear 
of  their  at  once  acquainting  Leon  with  her  whereabouts  ; 
and  she  has  been  in  England  too  short  a time  to  have  many 
friends  of  her  own.  But  there  was  one  of  the  art  students 
at  the  museum  whom  she  would  like  to  see  again,  and  she 
is  half  tempted  to  seek  her. 

What  Miss  Mertonville’s  address  is  she  does  not  know. 
She  would  not  dare  to  go  again  to  the  museum  ; but  one 


152 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


day,  about  a week  after  Trevor’s  departure,  she  determines 
to  visit  Burlington  House,  and  see  if  she  can  find  her 
there. 

She  has  only  had  one  letter  from  her  husband  during  this 
time,  and  in  it  he  tells  her  that  he  fears  he  shall  be  detained 
from  her  side  longer  than  he  expected ; but  he  urges  her  to 
be  cheerful,  and  advises  her  again  to  resume  her  drawing 
and  painting,  and  also  to  begin  a course  of  reading  to  fill 
up  her  leisure  moments. 

Advice  which  only  angers  her,  and  she  tells  herself  pas- 
sionately that  she  did  not  marry  with  the  intention  of  pur- 
suing a profession  as  though  she  had  remained  single. 

For  all  this  she  means  to  follow  the  advice  that  is  so 
unwelcome,  and  on  this  particular  day  she  goes  to  Picca- 
dilly, partly  to  call  at  an  artist's  color  shop  to  order  the 
canvas,  paints,  brushes,  crayons  and  drawing-paper  that  she 
requires ; partly,  also,  to  look  in  at  the  Royal  Academy  and 
make  inquiries  about  Miss  Mertonville,  whom  she  is  anxious 
to  see  again. 

Feminine  curiosity  tempts  her  into  Regent  street  to  look 
at  the  shops,  and  she  is  nearing  the  Circus  when  a pretty 
hat  in  a window  attracts  her  attention,  and  she  pauses  to 
examine  it,  half  tempted  to  enter  the  shop  and  become  its 

possessor. 

The  thought  that  Laurence  might  not  like  it  makes  her 
hesitate,  and  several  other  persons  have  paused  at  the  win- 
dow meanwhile,  one  of  whom,  a woman,  has  pushed  against 
her  rather  rudely,  then  has  gone  off  in  a hurry,  and  a gen- 
tleman, who  has  been  following  Eugenie  for  the  last  quarter 
of  an  hour,  lifts  his  hat  and  asks,  politely : 

“ Have  you  lost  your  purse,  madam  ? ” 

For  answer  Eugenie  thrusts  her  hand  in  her  pocket,  then 
cries,  in  dismay  : 

“It  is  gone  ! That  woman  must  have  taken  it.” 

“Yes,  I thought  I saw  her  do  so,”  he  replies;  “but  she  is 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


153 


out  of  sight  now.  Shall  we  speak  to  a policeman  ? I think 
I could  describe  her.” 

“ Oh,  no ; I don’t  think  my  husband  would  like  me  to  do 
that,”  she  replies,  nervously.  “ I should  have  to  go  to  a 
police  court,  should  I not  ?” 

“I  am  afraid  so,”  he  replies,  gently. 

“Then  I shall  have  to  lose  it,”  she  says,  with  a regretful 
sigh  ; “but  I thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  and  my  husband 
will  thank  you  when  he  meets  you  again.” 

“ Ah,  I thought  I knew  you  ! ” he  exclaims,  with  evident 
satisfaction  ; “ though  I could  not  for  the  moment  remem- 
ber where  we  had  met.” 

He  evidently  does  not  recognize  her,  though  she  seems  to 
know  him,  and  she  smiles  again  as  she  says  : 

“You  took  my  husband  away  from  me  for  more  than 
half-an-hour  when  we  were  at  Drury  Lane  Theater  a week 
ago.  You  remember  me,  don’t  you  ! I am  Mrs.  Laurence 
Trevor.” 

Still  he  seems  puzzled,  though  he  mentally  mutters, 
“ Confound  her  husband  ! ” Then  he  asks,  doubtfully  : 
“Were  you  the  lady  in  lemon-colored  silk,  in  the  box  just 
above  the  stalls  ?” 

“Yes,”  she  replies,  with  a smile.  “I  asked  Laurence 
who  you  were,  but  he  didn’t  tell  me,  though  he  said  he  had 
known  you  for  a great  many  years.” 

“Oh,  yes;  he  must  have  known  me  for  years,”  he 
responds,  in  a tone  that  puzzles  her. 

Then  he  asks,  curiously  : 

“ There  was  a row  in  the  hall  afterward,  was  there  not  ? ” 
“Yes,”  she  replies,  a troubled  expression  deepening  her 
dark  eyes. 

Then,  reading  aright  the  doubtful  look  that  comes  over 
his  face,  she  adds,  with  her  natural  impulsiveness  : 

“I  ran  away  from  home  to  marry  Laurence.  The  man 
who  caught  my  hand  in  the  hall  was  intended  for  me  by  my 
brother  ; but  don’t  say  anything  about  it,  please.  I am  still 


154  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

afraid  of  my  brother,  though  he  has  now  no  right  to  con- 
trol me.” 

“ Certainly  not,”  he  replies,  amused  and  touched  by  her 
innocence.  Then,  as  she  adds,  “ Thank  you  again,  and 
good-day,”  he  hastens  to  exclaim  : 

“ Pardon  me,  but  you  have  lost  your  purse.  Will  you 
oblige  me  by  using  mine  ?” 

“No,  it  is  unnecessary,”  she  answers,  frankly.  “I  will 
take  a cab  home,  and  pay  the  man  when  I arrive  there.” 

“ Then  let  me  put  you  into  the  cab  ? ” he  volunteers. 

And  a few  minutes  afterward  he  has  the  satisfaction  of 
hearing  her  order  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Swan's  Nest, 
Hammersmith. 

“Mrs.  Laurence  Trevor,  the  Swan's  Nest,  Hammer- 
smith,” he  repeats  to  himself,  as  he  walks  on  his  way.  “I'll 
make  a note  of  that ; there  is  some  villainy  here.  I don't 
believe  in  women  as  a rule,  but  in  this  instance  I do 
believe  that  she  is  the  victim.” 

Meanwhile  .Eugenie  reaches  her  own  home  in  safety,  but 
when  she  enters  the  house  she  is  told  that  there  is  a gentle- 
man in  the  drawing-room  waiting  to  see  her.  And,  even 
as  the  woman  speaks,  the  door  of  the  room  in  question 
opens  and  she  stands  face  to  face  with  her  brother  Leon. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Eugexie  has  dreaded  a meeting  with  Leon  since  the  hour 
she  escaped  from  him  at  the  British  Museum,  to  link  her 
fate  with  that  of  Laurence  Trevor. 

Again  and  again  she  has  pictured  this  meeting,  has 
thought  how  she  w^ould  hide  her  face  from  him,  and  how 
he  would  scathe  her  with  his  angry  words,  but,  now  the 
moment  has  come,  she  meets  him  as  coolly  and  calmly  as 
though  she  had  anticipated  the  visit. 

“ Ah  ! my  brother  ! ” she  says,  indifferently,  as  the  serv* 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


155 


ant  stares  at  her  and  at  him;  then  she  advances  to  the  room 
into  which  he  has  stepped  back  a pace  or  two,  and  says, 
carelessly  : 

“How  do  you  do,  Leon?  I did  not  expect  to  find  you 
here.” 

“No  ; I suppose  not,”  he  replies,  briefly. 

Then,  speaking  in  French,  he  adds  : 

“ I find  you  at  last,  though  you  have  eluded  me  success- 
fully for  three  whole  months.” 

The  servant,  who  is  listening  at  the  key-hole,  decides  that 
it  is  useless  to  stay  here  if  they  are  going  to  talk  their 
“foreign  lingo,”  and  she  departs  at  once  for  the  kitchen. 

Meanwhile,  Eugenie  has  sunk  into  a chair,  and  is  pulling 
the  gloves  from  her  hands,  as  she  says,  with  affected  indif- 
ference : 

“ It  is  more  than  that,  Leon  ; it  is  nearer  four  months 
than  three  since  we  parted  so  abruptly.  And  I expected,  I 
almost  hoped,  that  you  had  returned  to  Mexico  with  your 
friend.” 

“You  think  I fulfill  my  trust  from  the  dead  so  indiffer- 
ently as  to  leave  you  in  this  strange  land  to  become  an  out- 
cast?” he  asks,  with  sorrowful  reproach. 

But  his  words  rouse  his  sister  more  than  stronger  language 
could  do;  involuntarily  she  rises  to  her  feet,  throws  back 
her  head  haughtily,  and  repeats  : 

“An  outcast ! You  forget  that  I am  a wife  ! ” 

“I  cannot  forget  what  I never  knew,”  he  returns,  with 
concentrated  bitterness. 

“ But  have  you  not  had  my  marriage  certificate  ? ” she 
asks,  in  dismay. 

“Certainly  not,”  he  replies,  coldly.  “Had  I known  past 
all  doubt  that  you  were  married  and  happy  I should  have 
troubled  myself  about  you  no  more.” 

“That  is  what  I thought,”  she  cries,  eagerly;  “and  I 
knew  it  was  due  to  you  to  tell  you  what  I had  done.  You 
mustn't  te}l  Laurence,”  she  adds,  nervously;  “because  he 


156 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


thought  the  certificate  was  stolen  from  me,  but  I put  it  in 
an  envelope  and  posted  it  to  you  the  very  day  I ran  away, 
and  within  two  or  three  hours  of  my  marriage.” 

“ Ah  ! ” he  sneers,  “ you  began  by  deceiving  your  hus- 
band, as  you  deceived  me.” 

“It  is  mean  of  you  to  say  so,”  she  retorts,  with  spirit. 
“ If  you  had  not  insisted  upon  my  marrying  a man  whom  I 
loathed,  I should  have  been  frank  with  you.  At  any  rate,” 
she  continues,  as  though  not  quite  sure  of  herself  upon  this 
subject,  “ I should  have  asked  your  consent  to  my  marrying 
the  man  whom  I love.” 

“It  would  have  been  his  place  to  do  that,”  says  Leon  de 
Maestro,  coldly;  “but  it  is  useless  to  reproach  you  with  what 
cannot  be  undone.  Where  did  this  marriage  take  place  ? 
And  who  is  this  man  whom  you  have  married  ? ” 

She  tells  him,  repeating  her  anxiety  to  know  what  has 
become  of  her  marriage  certificate,  and  her  regret  at  having 
parted  with  it. 

“ If  what  you  tell  me  is  true  a copy  can  easily  be  obtained,” 
he  returns,  gloomily,  “and  I will  cause  inquiries  to  be  made 
about  the  one  you  posted  to  me  ; probably  it  was  mis- 
directed. But  who  is  this  man  whom  you  have  married  ? 
What  is  his  name,  his  parentage,  his  position  ? ” 

She  answers  the  first  question,  then  adds  : 

“I  know  nothing  of  his  family,  but  he  is  not  dependent 
upon  his  profession  ; he  has  private  means.  He  has  bought 
this  house  for  me  and  has  settled  money,  so  that  I have  an 
income  while  I live.” 

“ Marvelously  generous ! ” sneers  her  brother,  grimly. 
“ And  where  is  he  now  ? ” 

Her  countenance  falls.  She  has  dreaded  this  question, 
and  she  answers,  faintly  : 

“I  don't  know.” 

“ When  will  he  be  back  ? ” is  the  more  stern  demand. 

“That  I can't  tell  you,”  she  replies.  “I  hope  soon.  J 
am  never  happy  when  he  is  away  from  me.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


157 


Her  voice  breaks  with  agitation,  a suppressed  sob  escapes 
her  lips  and  her  brother’s  countenance  grows  more  gloomy 
as  he  realizes  that  she  is  already  neglected  by  the  man  for 
whom  she  had  risked  everything  that  makes  life  dear  to  a 
good  woman. 

“Do  you  know  his  family  ?”  he  asks,  abruptly. 

She  replies  in  the  negative. 

“ Or  his  friends  ? ” he  continues. 

“No,  I don’t  know  anybody  belonging  to  him!”  she 
exclaims,  passionately.  “I  am  here  alone,  without  a 
relative  or  a friend,  and  I;  who  used  to  be  so  silent  and  so 
reserved,  sometimes  feel  that  I would  give  anything  to  hear 
the  sound  of  a human  voice  speaking  to  me  in  tones  of 
kindness.” 

As  she  speaks  she  clasps  her  hands,  and  looks  at  him 

pitifully. 

He  is  but  her  half-brother,  but  he  is  all  that  is  left  to  her 
of  kith  or  kin,  and  she  knows  that,  despite  his  stern, 
gloomy  exterior,  deep  down  in  his  heart  he  loves  her  as 
though  she  were  his  own  child. 

But  now  he  steels  his  heart  against  her,  and  he  says, 
abruptly : 

“I  must  go,  but  don’t  try  to  escape  from  me  again,  for  I 
shall  find  you,  go  where  you  will,  and  if  I cannot  punish 
you,  I shall  take  good  care  to  punish  him!” 

“I  don’t  want  to  hide  from  you,  Leon,  if  you  will  be 
kind  to  me,”  Eugenie  says,  in  pleading  tones.  “Forgive 
me  for  having  deceived  you,  and  let  us  be  friends  ! ” 

She  looks  lovely  as  she  pleads  with  him,  his  heart  is  soft- 
ening toward  her  ; but  she  has  deceived  him  once,  she  may 
only  mean  to  deceive  him  again.  Much  that  she  has  told 
him  has  roused  in  his  mind  suspicions  of  which  she  is 
wholly  ignorant,  and  he  says,  sternly  : 

“ I must  know  first  that  you  have  not  brought  dishonor 
upon  my  name  ; if  you  h$ve,  I will  never  forgive  you  ! 
Never  ! ” 
u 


158 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“ Dishonor  ! ” cries  Eugenie,  springing  to  her  feet  again, 
and  changing  in  one  bound  from  a humble  suppliant  into 
an  indignant,  insulted  queen. 

“How  dare  you  use  such  a word  to  me  ?”  she  continues, 
passionately.  “Your  name  is  no  more  to  you  than  it  was 
to  me  when  it  was  mine ; and  I prize  my  honor  as  much  as 
any  woman  may  ! And  remember,  Leon  de  Maestro,  if  there 
is  any  informality  in  my- marriage,  I have  you,  and  you 
only,  to  thank  for  it.  Nothing  but  your  unwarrantable 
tyranny  drove  me  to  take  the  rash  step  of  marrying  a man 
about  whom  I knew  nothing,  except  that  I loved  him  ! I 
did  love  him,  and  love  him  still  ! I am  his  wife  in  the 
sight  of  heaven,  and,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  by  the 
laws  of  man  also  ! ” 

She  clasps  her  hands  and  turns  from  him  as  she  ceases 
to  speak. 

Her  heart  is  heavy  despite  her  indignant  words,  and 
when  she  looks  round  again  to  see  how  he  has  taken  what 
she  has  said,  she  finds  that  he  is  gone. 

But  this  interview  depresses  Eugenie,  more  even  than  her 
husband’s  absence.  It  raises  in  her  heart  doubts,  which 
spring  up  again  and  again  like  rank  weeds,  despite  all  her 
efforts  to  stifle  them,  and  for  many  days  afterward  she  is  a 
prey  to  nervous  hopes  and  fears,  which  agitate  her  mind 
and  make  her  cheeks  grow  pale  and  her  limbs  heavy  and 
listless. 

And  Trevor’s  prolonged  absence  helps  to  increase  her 
misery. 

Every  morning,  when  she  opens  her  eyes,  she  says  to  her- 
self : 

“ Surely  lie  will  come  to-day ; he  must  come  to-day  ! ” 
and  she  stays  at  home,  anxious  to  be  here  to  receive  him  ; 
but  the  day  dies,  night  sets  in,  and  Laurence  Trevor  does 
not  return  to  the  woman  who  would  willingly  lay  down  her 
life  to  save  him  a moment’s  pain. 

Thus  a whole  month  passes  by,  and,  at  the  end  of  that 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


159 


time,  Eugenie  is  so  broken  down  with  anxiety  that  the  two 
servants  whom  she  keeps  take  the  matter  into  their  own 
hands  and  send  for  a doctor. 

But  who  can  minister  to  a mind  diseased  ? 

The  doctor  can  do  her  no  good.  He  tells  her  that  she 
must  rouse  herself ; he  asks  questions  which  torture  her 
about  her  husband,  and  which  she  is  too  truthful  to  evade. 
He  suggests  change  of  scene,  or  a visit  to  the  seaside  as 
likely  to  brace  her  up,  and  at  length  leaves  her,  finding  it 
impossible  to  make  her  follow  any  of  his  prescriptions. 

And  during  all  this  time  Leon  does  not  reappear. 

Probably  he  has  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  truth  of  her 
statement  about  her  marriage  ; Di  Castro  also  will  have 
been  told  how  Trevor  claimed  her  for  his  wife  ; and  it  may 
be  that  the  two  men  have  left  her  to  the  fate  she  has  chosen, 
and  have  gone  of  to  their  own  country. 

This  is  what  Eugenie  had  hoped  they  would  do.  Now 
the  thought  that  it  is  so  fills  her  with  terror,  for,  stern  and 
masterful  as  her  brother  is,  she  can  trust  him,  and  she 
believes  that,  despite  his  harsh  words,  he  would  be  a 
stanch  and  true  friend  to  her  if  she  should  ever  need 
one. 

During  these  long,  miserable  days,  she  rarely  leaves  her 
own  house  and  garden,  though  she  takes  no  real  pleasure  in 
either. 

She  has  not  begun  the  new  picture  for  which  she  had 
ordered  materials.  The  loss  of  her  purse  that  day  when 
she  went  to  buy  them  kept  her  from  calling  at  Burlington 
House,  as  she  had  intended,  and  now  she  is  glad  of  it;  she 
shrinks  from  the  thought  of  claiming  the  acquaintance  of 
any  of  her  old  friends  until  Laurence  returns,  until  she 
knows  what  her  position  is  with  regard  to  him. 

Thus  the  days  and  the  weeks  go  by,  and  Eugenie’s  natur- 
ally excitable  temper  would  drive  her  to  go  to  the  police  to 
make  inquiries  about  her  husband,  or  walk  into  the  river  at 
the  bottom  of  her  garden  to  end  her  own  wretched  life,  if 


160 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


another  heart  besides  her  own  had  not  throbbed  in  her 
breast,  if  a new  hope  and  a new  fear  had  not  been  added  to 
her  previous  perplexities. 

It  is  the  beginning  of  June,  and  Eugenie  feels  more  list- 
less and  apathetic  than  usual,  when  a letter  is  brought  to 
her  at  midday. 

As  she  recognizes  the  handwriting  her  cheeks  blanch,  her 
hands  tremble,  and  several  minutes  elapse  before  she  can 
summon  sufficient  courage  to  open  it. 

Then  the  written  words  swim  before  her  eyes,  though 
she  at  length  manages  to  read  : 

“ My  Dear  Eugenie — I have  been  ill,  otherwise  I should  have  returned 
homo  some  weeks  ago.  I am  better  now,  but  have  to  start  for  America 
within  the  next  four-and-twenty  hours,  so  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  see  you 
before  I go.  Keep  up  your  spirits,  dear,  and  remember,  if  anything  should 
happen  to  me,  you  are  provided  for.  I shall  be  such  a wanderer  that  I cannot 
give  you  any  stated  address  beyond  the  inclosed,  but  letters  sent  there  will 
eventually  reach  me. 

“ Your  affectionate  husband, 

“Laurence  Trevor.” 

She  is  still  gazing  at  this  curious  espistle,  when  a servant 
announces : 

“Mr.  de  Maestro,”  and  the  next  instant  her  brother  Leon 
is  before  her. 

“You  are  just  in  time,  Leon,”  she  says,  in  a tone  of  voice 
which  is  so  unnatural  to  her  that  he  stares  at  her  in 
amazement. 

Her  face  is  pale,  her  large,  black  eyes  are  dilated.  She 
wears  a white  morning-robe,  and  her  black  hair  falls  over 
her  shoulders,  as  it  used  to  do  in  the  days  of  her  girlhood. 
But  her  senses  are  almost  paralyzed  by  what  she  has  read, 
and  she  is  more  than  half  inclined  to  laugh  in  very  mockery 
of  her  own  woe. 

“What  is  the  matter?”  he  asks,  taking  her  hand,  and 
speaking  in  a more  gentle  tone  than  is  usual  to. him. . 

She  makes  him  no  answer,  but  hands  him  the  letter,  and 
he  reads  it  to  the  end,  his  teeth  closing  tightly  as  he 
finishes. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  M 

u This  is  his  farewell  ? ” he  asks,  looking  at  her  pitifully. 
“It  reads  like  it,”  she  replies,  wearily. 

“ He  has  not  been  home  since  I was  last  here  ? ” he  asks 
again. 

A shake  of  the  head  is  the  answer,  and  for  a few  moments 
there  is  silence  between  them,  broken  by  Leon,  saying  : 
“Write  what  I dictate,  and  post  it  at  once.  He  means 
no  more  to  go  to  America  than  you  or  I do.” 

She  hesitates.  Her  husband  is  dearer  to  her  than  her 
brother,  dearer  than  her  own  life,  and,  badly  as  he  seems  to 
treat  her,  she  would  do  nothing  to  injure  him. 

Her  brother  reads  the  thought  that  passes  through  her 
mind,  and  he  says,  promptly  : 

“No  harm  will  come  to  him.  But  you  must  make  him 
come  here  to  see  you.  Then  send  me  a telegram,  and  I will 
meet  him  and  have  the  matter  cleared  up  before  he  goes 
away  again.” 

“ But  how  am  I to  do  it  ? ” she  asks,  helplessly.  “ What 
can  I say  that  shall  bring  him  here  ? ” 

“ Write  and  entreat  him  to  come ; tell  him  that  you  are 
ill,  that  I have  been  to  see  you,  that  I have  threatened  to 
sePdetectives  to  search  for  him,  to  advertise  a description 
of  him  in  all  the  newspapers  if  he  does  not  communicate 
with  me  at  once.  Ask  what  you  are  to  do  ? That  will 
bring  him,  and  quickly.” 

“But  I shall  be  writing  what  is  not  true.” 

“You  will  be  writing  what  is  perfectly  true,”  he  retorts  ; 
“for  I will  do  that  and  more  if  you  do  not  obey  me. 
This  man  has  something  to  hide,  and  his  fears  will  bring 
him  where  his  love  could  not.” 

Eugenie  shrinks  as  under  a lash,  for  the  words  wound  her 
cruelly,  but  the  letter  is  written  and  posted  ; yet  for  the 
time  nothing  comes  of  it,  and  even  Leon  begins  to  think 
that  Trevor  is  probably  upon  the  Atlantic. 

But  one  summer  night  — the  night  of  the  same  day  as 
that  upon  which  Lord  Claude  Irongate  attempted  to  kiss 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


162 

Hetty  Hamblin  in  Brent  Wood,  and  so  frightened  her, 
that  in  her  desire  to  escape  him  she  crossed  the  weir,  and 
fell  into  the  arms  of  Gilbert  Tavenner — Laurence  Trevor 
walks  calmly  into  his  wife's  house,  as  casually  as  though  he 
had  only  been  absent  four  or  five  hours,  instead  of  twice  as 
many  weeks. 

Eugenie  falls  upon  his  neck  and  kisses  him,  weeps  and 
laughs  by  turns,  and  it  is  some  time  before  he  can  calm  her 
and  get  her  to  talk  to  him  rationally. 

For  his  own  absence  he  makes  no  excuse ; when  their 
honeymoon  ended  he  assumed  that  he  was  to  do  as  he  liked, 
and  poor  Eugenie  is  soon  silenced  when  she  ventures  to 
reproach  him. 

But  when  he  learns  from  her  that  their  marriage  will  not 
be  an  unfruitful  one,  the  frown  on  his  brow  deepens,  and 
he  asks  questions  about  her  brother  and  Di  Castro,  which 
she  has  scarcely  the  courage  to  answer. 

“So  your  brother  comes  daily,”  he  asks,  gloomily,  having 
extorted  so  much  from  her. 

“Yes,  he  comes  when  he  will,”  she  replies,  timidly;  “he 
wants  to  see  you  ; and  he  has  more  than  once  hinted  that 
your  name  is  not  Trevor.  But  it  is  — isn't  it,  Laurence  ?” 

“Of  course  it  is  !”  he  replies,  bruskly. 

Then  he  asks,  sharply  : 

“ When  does  this  brother  of  yours  intend  to  favor  us  with 
a visit  again  ? ” 

“He  will  be  here  to-morrow,  I suppose,”  she  replies,  nerv- 
ously; “but  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  see  him,  Laurence, 
and  get  it  over.  ” 

“Yes,  I suppose  so,”  he  returns,  shortly  ; and  the  subject 
drops  until  the  next  morning,  when  Trevor  says,  abruptly  : 

“ I have  to  go  to  the  city  early ; but  you  can  ask  your 
brother  to  stay  to  dinner  if  he  calls.  I suppose  I shall  be 
back  about  five  o'clock.” 

“You  don't  give  me  much  of  your  company,  Laurence,” 
pouts  the  young  wife. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


163 


And  he  answers,  carelessly  : 

“ I give  yon  as  much  as  I can.  But  I wish  yon  would 
fetch  me  a pocket-book  I left  upstairs ; I don’t  care  to  send 
a servant  for  it.” 

She  rises  to  obey,  and  when  she  has  left  the  room,  and 
the  door  is  closed  upon  her,  he  takes  a small  phial  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  empties  its  contents  into  her  half-finished 
cup  of  coffee,  then  drops 'the  empty  bottle  among  the  cot- 
tons in  a pretty  workstand  that  happens  to  be  close  at 
hand. 

The  dastardly  deed  is  done  swiftly,  and  he  is  reading  his 
newspaper  when  Eugenie  returns  from  her  fruitless  search, 
the  book  being  subsequently  found  in  his  own  pocket. 

He  waits  until  she  has  finished  her  breakfast,  he  sees  her 
drink  the  whole  of  the  drugged  coffee  ; and  then,  remark- 
ing that  he  will  be  late  for  his  appointment,  he  hastens  to 
leave  the  house,  enjoining  his  wife  to  be  sure  and  keep  her 
brother  till  his  return. 

Two  hours  later,  when  Leon  de  Maestro  calls  at  the 
Swan’s  Nest,  he  finds  the  servants  in  dismay,  and  his  sister 
in  a deep  stupor,  from  which  two  doctors  are  vainly  trying 
to  rouse  her. 

“The  doctors  say  my  mistress  has  taken  poison,”  volun- 
teers one  of  the  servants. 

While  the  other  adds,  indignantly  : 

“ I don’t  believe  she  went  to  do  it,  sir,  for  she  was  quite 
happy  and  cheerful  this  morning  ; and  the  master  told  her 
to  be  sure  to  keep  you  till  he  returned.  I heard  him  say  it 
myself  when  he  kissed  her  at  the  door  as  he  went  out.” 

“ Has  your  master  been  back  ? ” asks  Leon,  his  dark  eyes 
blazing  with  sudden  suspicion. 

“Yes,  sir ; he  came  home  last  night,  and  went  away  this 
morning,”  is  the  answer.  “But  he  is  expected  home  to 
dinner.” 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Laurence  Trevor  did  not  return 


164  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

to  dinner;  and,  had  he  done  so,  there  would  be  none  for 
him. 

All  through  that  day  and  long  into  the  night  the  doctors, 
the  servants,  and  Leon  are  working  hard  to  counteract  the 
effects  of  the  deadly  poison  which  Eugenie  has  swallowed  ; 
and  the  next  morning  dawns,  finding  them  worn  out  at 
their  task,  the  result  of  their  efforts  still  undecided. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  ill  at  ease.  Her  maternal  instinct 
warns  her  that  Jem  Blake’s  desperate  suit  is  not  the  only 
danger  to  the  success  of  her  plans  for  making  Hetty  accept 
the  hand  of  Lord  Claude  Irongate. 

What  Hetty  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  have  told  her  about 
Jem’s  murderous  attempt  she  is  obliged  to  believe,  for  her 
daughter’s  scratched  and  torn  hands  attest  to  the  truth  of 
the  story ; but  she  feels  that  they  have  not  told  her  all,  and 
that  they  have  had  something  more  than  this  to  talk  about 
while  they  were  seated  under  the  trees. 

Even  now,  though  Tavenner  is  gone,  she  can  see  an 
ecstatic  expression  lingering  upon  Hetty’s  face,  giving  a 
softer  charm  to  her  lovely  eyes,  an  added  sweetness  to  her 
lips,  such  as  Lord  Claude  has  never  been  able  to  bring 
there  ; and  the  anxious  mother  knows,  with  unerring  cer- 
tainty; that  it  is  a girl’s  first  love  that  is  the  glorious 
beautifier. 

She  had  wondered  how  it  came  about  that  Hetty  was  so 
indifferent  to  Lord  Claude’s  devotion,  and  why  she  shrank 
with  such  repugnance  from  the  idea  of  becoming  his  wife ; 
but  she  understands  it  now  — the  image  of  another  is  en- 
shrined in  the  girl’s  heart,  and  she  clings  to  this  love  as  she 
clings  to  her  life. 

This  discovery  troubles  the  trainer’s  wife  greatly  ; it  not 
only  threatens  to  upset  all  her  plans  for  her  daughter’s 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


165 


social  elevation,  but  she  considers  it  more  than  probable 
that  it  will  cause  her  child  endless  disappointment  and  life- 
long misery. 

“ He  will  not  dare  to  marry  her  while  his  mother  lives, 
even  if  he  wishes  it,”  she  thinks,  sadly  ; “and  I doubt  if  he 
does  wish  it.  The  Tavenners  were  always  a proud  race, 
and  his  mother  is  prouder  than  any  of  them.” 

Thus  she  muses  mournfully,  but  she  says  nothing  of  the 
thoughts  that  pass  through  her  mind  ; she  feels  that  this 
love  will  thrive  least  if  it  is  ignored  — if  it  is  supposed  not 
to  exist ; and  when  she  has  taken  her  daughter  home,  and 
bandaged  her  hands,  she  says,  thoughtfully  : 

“I  almost  think  it  would  be  best,  Hetty,  for  us  to  be 
silent  about  Jem  Blake  to  your  father,  and  to  every  one,  un- 
less he  shows  himself  in  this  neighborhood  again.” 

“Very  well,  mother,”  she  replies,  though  she  is  sorely 
tempted  to  ask,  “ Why  ? ” 

The  explanation,  however,  is  soon  given. 

“If  the  matter  comes  to  your  father's  ears,”  continues 
Mrs.  Hamblin,  thoughtfully,  “ he  will  at  once  apply  to  the 
police  and  have  the  fellow  arrested.  That  would  be  right 
enough,  he  richly  deserves  severe  punishment ; but  see 
what  it  entails.  You  will  have  to  go  into  court  to  prose- 
cute the  man,  Mr.  Tavenner  will  be  called  as  a witness,  and 
all  kinds  of  disagreeable  things  may  be  brought  to  light  and 
published  in  the  newspapers  about  all  of  us.” 

“Yes,  mother,  you  are  quite  right!”  exclaims  Hetty, 
quickly.  “ I would  not  go  into  a court  of  law  for  anything 
if  I could  help  it,  and  I could  not  bear  the  talk  and  the 
scandal  that  such  a thing  would  provoke.  But  could  we 
not  go  away  from  here  for  a little  while  ? I shall  dread 
that  Jem  Blake  will  spring  upon  me  whenever  I see  a move- 
ment in  the  bushes,  the  very  thought  of  him  makes  me 
tremble  ; and  then,”  with  a sigh,  “Lord  Claude  wearies  me 
so  intolerably  ! ” 

“I  think  you  are  very  ungrateful  to  Lord  Claude,”  retorts 


166 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


her  mother,,  sharply.  “ He  puts  aside  his  rank  and  wealth 
and  dignity  to  win  you  for  his  wife,  and  you  show  your 
appreciation  of  his  disinterestedness  by  saying  that  he 
wearies  you.” 

“ And  the  most  ungrateful  part  of  it  is,  that  I only  speak 
the  truth,”  returns  Hetty,  gravely. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  makes  no  answer.  She  quite  understands 
that  Hetty  is  desirous  of  expressing  her  real  sentiments 
toward  Lord  Claude  and  freeing  herself  from  his  unwel- 
come attentions,  and  she  is  determined  not  to  give  her  the 
opportunity  if  she  can  help  it ; so  she  begins  to  invent  a 
story  to  account  for  the  injured  hands,  and  when  this  is 
satisfactorily  arranged  she  says,  with  a smile  : 

“ Your  father  and  I were  talking  about  you  this  morning, 
and  wTe  decided  that  you  and  I shall  go  to  the  seaside  for  a 
wreek  or  two.  Now,  where  would  you  like  to  go  to  ?” 

“Lord  Claude  is  not  to  pay  the  expense  of  our  journey, 
is  he  ? ” asks  Hetty,  quickly. 

And  her  mother  replies,  promptly  : 

“No,  certainly  not;  your  father  and  Chris  will  pay  all 
the  cost,  so  just  make  up  your  mind  what  place  you  would 
like  to  see.” 

“This  is  a matter  that  requires  consideration,”  replies 
Hetty,  smiling  brightly  at  the  thought  of  a change ; and 
she  gets  a map  of  England,  and  sits  down  at  the  table  and 
looks  at  the  names  of  the  towns  and  villages  on  the  east  and 
south  coast,  thinking  of  the  delight  of  sitting  by  the  sea- 
shore, and  dreaming  of  him  who  by  that  time  will  have 
crossed  the  blue  water  and  be  traveling  upon  a foreign  soil. 

Suddenly  she  looks  up  to  her  mother,  who  is  standing  by 
her  side,  and  asks,  quietly  : 

“Do  you  intend  Lord  Claude  to  know  where  we  go, 
mother  ? ” 

Mrs.  Hamblin's  face  changes,  and  she  replies,  evasively  : 

“ If  he  asks  the  question,  we  can  scarcely  refuse  to  tell 

him,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


167 


“That  is  true,”  returns  Hetty  ; “but  you  can  tell  him, 
mother,  that  I don't  wish  him  to  follow  us.  I wish  to  be 
free  from  him  — for  a time,  at  any  rate.” 

She  adds  these  last  words,  seeing  the  frown  gather  upon 
her  mother's  brow ; and  when  the  latter  makes  some 
remark  about  the  impossibility  of  saying  this  to  his  lord- 
ship,  the  girl  exclaims,  impatiently  : 

“ Then  I might  just  as  well  stay  at  home ; indeed,  I would 
rather  do  so.  It  would  spoil  all  my  pleasure  in  wandering 
about  on  the  seashore  if  I am  to  meet  Lord  Claude  at  every 
turn.” 

“ What's  that  ? ” asks  Joe  Hamblin,  coming  into  the  room 
in  time  to  hear  a portion  of  this  protest. 

Hetty  repeats  this  objection,  and  her  father  says, 
promptly  : 

“You  are  quite  right,  my  dear ; when  you  go  away  for  a 
change  have  it,  and  don't  trouble  yourself  about  anything 
else  ; run  wild  on  the  sands  and  the  rocks  for  a little  while, 
and  then  you'll  come  back  to  your  old  father  bright  and 
bonny.” 

Hetty  smiles  gratefully,  while  her  mother  leaves  the  room 
in  displeasure ; but  as  soon  as  he  is  alone  with  his  daughter, 
Joe  Hamblin's  tone  and  manner  become  confidential,  and 
he  says,  hurriedly : 

“Your  mother  wants  you  to  marry  Lord  Claude,  Hetty, 
and  there's  no  denying  it's  a wonderful  match  for  you  ; but 
you  shan't  be  made  to  have  him  against  your  will,  remember 
that;  if  it  comes  to  a tussle  with  the  white  sergeant  at 
any  time,  I'll  take  your  part  against  her,  so  will  Chris.  It's 
true  I should  like  to  see  you  married  to  a rich  man  who 
would  make  you  happy,  but  you  shall  please  yourself,  Hetty; 
only,  remember,  my  girl,  ‘ as  you  make  your  bed  you'll  have 
to  lie  on  it.'  I told  your  mother  that ; when  she  would  marry 
me,  but  ii  didn't  make  the  least  difference.  ” 

He  sighs  as  he  finishes  speaking,  as  though  thoughts  of 
the  past  brought  nothing  but  pain. 


168 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ Dear  father,  I hope  I shall  please  both  of  you  if  I ever 
do  marry/’  replies  Hetty,  kissing  him  fondly ; “but  I don’t 
want  to  think  about  it  yet ; I want  to  be  left  alone  with 
you  and  mother  and  Chris,  and  my  books  and  painting. 
And,  now,  where  shall  we  go  ? Do  you  know  any  pretty 
place  by  the  seaside  where  there  are  no  fine  people,  and 
where  we  can  run  about  just  as  we  like  ? ” 

“Why,  yes,”  replies  Joe,  brightly;  “there’s  a fishing 
village  down  in  Suffolk,  with  fine  bracing  air,  any  length  of 
sands,  plenty  of  salt  marshes,  and  a wide  common  where 
you  can  almost  lose  yourself ; it’s  a bit  this  side  of  South- 
wold  ; I mind  the  place  well.  I’m  going  to  Colneford  this 
evening,  and  I’ll  bring  back  a railway  guide  with  me.” 
“Yes,  do,  father,”  she  exclaims,  brightly;  “that’s 
where  we  will  go  unless  mother  objects.  I’ll  begin  to  get 
our  things  together  at  once.” 

“All  right,”  he  replies  ; “as  soon  as  you  like.  I shall  get 
a holiday  while  you  are  away,  and  run  down  to  see  your 
mother  and  you  ; but  what’s  the  matter  with  your  hands  — 
burned  them  ? ” 

“No,  I have  got  them  badly  scratched,”  she  replies,  care- 
lessly ; “but  they  will  be  better  soon.” 

Then  she  seeks  her  mother,  to  talk  to  her  about  the  place 
in  Suffolk  to  which  she  wfishes  to  go,  and  before  they  retire 
to  rest  that  evening  their  plans  are  all  made,  and  they  de- 
cide to  start  for  Walberswick,  the  fishing  village  in  question, 
on  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

When  Lord  Claude  appears  at  Stanmoor  the  morning 
after  this  decision  is  arrived  at,  he  is  disappointed  at  not 
finding  Hetty  under  the  big  cedar,  painting  as  usual. 

His  own  easel,  canvas,  paints  and  brushes  had  been 
brought  here  by  a servant  an  hour  ago,  and  here  they  stand, 
unpacked  and  alone. 

He  knocks  at  the  door  of  the  house  and  is  shown  by  Molly, 
the  servant,  into  the  sitting-room,  where  Mrs.  Hamblin  is 
sewing  and  Hetty  is  reclining  on  a couch  reading. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


10) 


The  fair  girl's  face  is  pale,  her  beautiful  eyes  look  heavy  and 
weary  ; she  is  suffering  to-day  from  the  fright  and  shock  of 
yesterday,  and  the  lacerated  hands  give  her  much  more 
pain  than  they  did  when  the  nails  and  splinters  tore  the 
delicate  flesh. 

Altogether  she  is  unnerved,  languid  and  depressed,  and 
even  the  prospect  of  change  of  scene  is  not  sufficient  to  rouse 
her. 

Lord  Claude  comes  forward  eagerly  to  take  her  hand  as 
usual,  but  he  starts  back  in  dismay  as  he  perceives  how 
both  of  them  are  bandaged,  as  though  they  had  been  badly 
burned. 

“What  is  the  matter  ?”  he  asks,  with  lover-like  solicitude. 

“I  met  with  an  accident  yesterday,”  replies  Hetty, 
faintly,  “and  I donT  feel  well  to-day.  You  will  excuse  me 
from  getting  up,  wonT  you  ? ” 

“Certainly,”  he  replies,  tenderly;  “but  I am  grieved  to 
find  you  like  this.  You  must  have  advice  at  once.  I will 
send  for  Doctor  Bradford.  He  is  decidedly  the  best  doctor 
in  the  neighborhood.” 

“No;  please  donT  do  anything  of  the  kind!”  cries 
Hetty,  quickly.  “ I donT  want  a doctor  ; it  is  change  of 
air  that  I need,  and  mother  is  going  to  take  me  to  the  sea- 
side to-morrow.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” he  exclaims,  in  an  offended  tone.  “ And 
where  are  you  going  ? ” 

Mrs.  Hamblin,  who  is  sitting  by,  tells  him,  adding  : 

“ Hetty  has  not  been  well  for  some  little  time,  and  her 
father  and  I think  the  sea  air  might  do  her  good.  The 
place  to  which  we  are  going  is  on  the  east  coast,  and  I am 
told  that  the  air  is  very  bracing.  We  shall  be  quite  alone, 
and  shall  be  away  about  a fortnight.” 

“Oh,  I shall  come  down  and  join  you  certainly,”  says  his 
lordship,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  a right  to  do  so. 

There  is  an  interval  of  silence. 

Hetty  waits  for  her  mother  to  speak,  but  the  latter  is 


1?0  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

intent  upon  her  work  and  is  conveniently  deaf  to  the 
remark. 

It  is  the  girl,  therefore,  who  at  length  says  : 

“ Please  don’t  do  anything  of  the  kind,  my  lord.  Mother 
and  I will  go  to  cheap,  humble  lodgings,  and  would  like  to 
be  alone.  We  are  going  for  the  sake  of  my  health  — not 
for  pleasure  — and  we  shall  be  much  more  comfortable  if  we 
are  left  to  ourselves.” 

“You  had  much  better  consent  to  what  I proposed  yes- 
terday,” he  says,  significantly  ; “there  would  be  no  humble 
lodgings  then.  You  could  go  where  you  like,  have  what- 
ever you  fancy  ; I would  even  make  my  sister  find  another 
home  if  you  desire  it.” 

“ Oh,  no  ; such  a thing  is  out  of  the  question  ! ” exclaims 
Hetty,  hurriedly,  while  her  face  flushes  hotly.  “ I told  you 
so  yesterday,  my  lord.” 

“Hetty  is  so  young,”  here  interposes  Mrs.  Hamblin,  in 
her  softest  tones.  “ She  is  not  in  good  health,  and  that 
makes  her  capricious  and  discontented.  She  will  be  better 
after  our  trip,  and  with  renewed  health  will  become  more 
sensible,  I hope.” 

Lord  Claude  mutters  something  under  his  breath,  turns 
to  the  open  window  and  stands  moodily  looking  out  over 
the  small  garden  to  the  thick  shrubbery  beyond. 

He  is  vexed  with  Hetty. 

She  never  seems  to  have  forgiven  him  for  that  first 
attempt  of  his  to  steal  a kiss,  and  more  than  once  since 
he  came  openly  to  woo  her  he  has  felt  so  much  irritated  by 
her  coldness  and  ill-concealed  aversion  that  he  has  half 
resolved  to  go  and  leave  her  to  her  lowly  lot ; or,  better 
still,  send  her  father  away  and  get  rid  of  the  Hamblins 
altogether. 

But  half  resolutions  go  but  a short  way  when  they  are 
opposed  by  a man’s  eager,  passionate  love  for  a girl  who  is 
hard  to  win,  yet  who  does  not  seem  to  be  altogether 
inaccessible. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


171 


And  it  is  not  Hetty's  beauty  alone  that  attracts  him  ; 
lovely  as  she  is,  he  would  probably  ere  this  have  tired  of 
her  if  she  had  been  ready  or  eager  to  accept  his  suit. 

Her  very  coldness,  her  evident  desire  to  get  away  from 
him,  fans  his  passion  to  fever  heat ; and  he  is  wondering  by 
what  excuse  he  can  get  her  mother  out  of  the  room,  so  that 
he  may  make  one  more  appeal  to  her  to  marry  him  at  once, 
and  let  him  take  her  away  from  her  humble  surroundings, 
when  a movement  among  the  shrubs  that  he  has  been  look- 
ing at  attracts  his  attention. 

The  movement  is  peculiar  — it  is  slow  and  cautious  ; 
once  indeed  he  catches  sight  of  the  head  of  a man  peering 
about,  as  though  he  were  spying  over  the  premises,  while 
he  is  himself  desirous  to  be  hidden. 

Whatever  Lord  Claude's  failings  may  be,  personal  cow- 
ardice is  not  one  of  them. 

Watching  the  man  cautiously  approaching  the  house, 
while  hiding  himself  among  the  tall  shrubs,  he  instantly 
realizes  that  some  mischief  is  intended  to  Hetty  or  her 
mother. 

It  is  just  the  hour  when  Joe  Hamblin  and  the  men 
engaged  in  the  stables,  which  lie  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
will  be  most  busy.  Even  the  maid  servant  is  likely  to  be  out 
of  the  way  at  this  time  in  the  morning,  and  Lord  Claude, 
as  he  sees  that  the  man  is  slowly  coming  nearer,  himself 
steps  farther  back  into  the  room,  so  that  he  may  not  be 
observed  by  him. 

“ What  is  it,  my  lord  ? ” asks  Mrs.  Hamblin,  in  sudden 
alarm,  as  she  observes  the  movement. 

“ There  is  a man  hiding  among  the  shrubs  and  young 
trees,”  he  replies,  slowly.  “I  have  been  watching  him  for 
several  minutes.  He  seems  to  be  coming  nearer  to  the 
house,  and  his  movements  are  so  suspicious  that  I want  to 
watch  him  without  his  seeing  me.” 

His  words  send  a thrill  of  terror  through  Hetty's  heart. 


172 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


She  springs  to  her  feet,  clasps  her  bandaged  hands  upon  her 
breast,  and  cries  fearfully  : 

“'It  is  Jem  Blake  ! He  tried  to  murder  me  directly  after 
you  left  me  yesterday.  I only  escaped  as  by  a miracle  ; it 
was  by  him  that  my  hands  were  injured  as  they  are.  Oh, 
where  is  father  ; let  us  call  him  at  once,  mother  ! ” 

“ Be  quiet,  Hetty  ! ” exclaims  Mrs.  Hamblin,  angrily. 
“You  are  in  no  danger  from  him  now.” 

She  is  vexed  with  her  daughter  for  revealing  in  her 
terror  what  she  had  thought  it  prudent  to  hide,  and  she  knows 
that  Lord  Claude  is  displeased  when  he  asks,  sternly  : 

“ Who  is  J em  Blake  ? ” 

There  are  times  when  the  outspoken  truth  alone  can 
help  us. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  feels  that  this  is  the  case  now,  and  she 
says,  promptly : 

“Jem  Blake  was  one  of  the  stablemen.  He  has  come 
into  a little  money,  and  has  taken  the  insane  idea  into  his 
head  that  he  will  make  Hetty  marry  him.  He  frightened 
her  terribly  yesterday,  and  her  hands  were  hurt  in  her 
struggle  to  get  away  from  him.” 

“ Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  when  I came  in  ? ” he 
asks,  suspiciously. 

“We  have  not  told  even  my  husband,”  is  the  immediate 
reply.  “Hetty  would  have  done  so,”  continues  the  cautious 
mother ; “ but  I thought  of  the  talk  it  would  raise,  and 
advised  her  to  be  silent.” 

“ The  fellow  doesn't  mean  you  to  be  silent,”  says  Lord 
Claude,  grimly,  as  he  keeps  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  slightly- 
moving  bushes  ; “but  I'll  give  him  a lesson  for  his  audacity 
that  he  won't  forget  in  a hurry.” 

He  glances  round  the  room  as  he  speaks,  and  his  eyes  rest 
upon  a small,  cruel-looking  riding  whip,  which  he  takes  in 
his  hand,  and  smiles  with  satisfaction  as  he  finds  that  the 
head  of  it  is  loaded. 

“This  will  do,”  he  says,  quietly. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


173 


But  his  compressed  lip,  the  cold,  steely  look  that  comes 
into  his  blue  eyes,  and  his  slightly-dilated  nostrils  frighten 
Hetty  when  she  thinks  of  his  meeting  such  a desperate 
character  as  Jem  Blake  yesterday  proved  himself  to  be ; 
and,  though  she  does  not  love  her  noble  suitor,  she  cries 
anxiously : 

“ Oh,  pray  be  careful  of  yourself,  my  lord  ; he  hates  you, 
and  if  you  provoke  him  he  may  do  you  some  deadly  harm.” 
“I  am  not  afraid  of  the  fellow,”  he  replies,  smiling  at  her 
fears  ; “ but  I will  take  care  of  myself  for  your  sake,  Hetty. 
And  now  to  trap  the  fellow,  I will  go  out  by  the  backdoor 
and  make  my  way  round  ; you  keep  him  well  in  view,  Mrs. 
Hamblin,  and  lock  the  door  of  this  room  when  I leave  it.  ” 
Then,  surprising  Hetty  with  a hurried  kiss,  he  goes  off 
with  a light  step,  and  a lighter  heart,  to  give  Jem  Blake  a 
sharp  lesson ; thinking  little  of  Hetty's  warning  that  the 
fellow  will  not  hesitate  to  do  him  some  deadly  mischief. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Stolid  and  unchanging  as  the  face  of  a house  can  look, 
did  Stanmoor  appear  to  the  man  hidden  in  the  bushes  on 
this  particular  morning. 

Yesterday  he  had  been  over  the  same  ground,  in  the  same 
stealthy  manner,  as  he  watched  Lord  Claude  and  Hetty, 
seated  under  the  big  cedar. 

Then,  his  breast  was  agitated  with  love  and  jealousy,  and 
he  regarded  his  lordship  as  a rich  rival,  whose  rank  and 
wealth  had  bribed  the  fair  girl  by  his  side  to  turn  from  her 
humble  suitor  and  regard  him  with  favor. 

To-day  he  labors  under  no  such  delusion,  for  Hetty's 
feelings  toward  himself  had  yesterday  been  shown  but  too 
clearly  to  be  mistaken. 

She  hates  him  — if  such  a gentle  girl  can  hate  any  one  — 
with  an  unconquerable  hatred  ! She  loathes  him  ! 


174 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


The  touch  of  his  hand  is  obnoxious  to  her ; his  presence 
offends  her  sight,  and  he  can  neither  forgive  nor  forget  the 
fact  that,  terrified  as  she  was  by  the  near  presence  of 
death,  she  was  ready  to  meet  the  grim  specter  rather  than 
promise  to  become  his  wife. 

Thus  it  happens  that  yesterday,  when  he  crept  through 
these  bushes,  he  hugged  the  hope  to  his  heart  that  Hetty 
might  yet  be  won  ; to-day  that  hope  has  left  him  ; love  has 
given  place  to  a craving  desire  for  revenge,  for  a sweeping 
revenge  ; and  he  cares  not  to  make  any  plans  for  his  own 
safety,  provided  he  can  but  accomplish  his  purpose. 

He  is  disappointed,  though  not  surprised,  to  find  that 
Hetty  keeps  in  the  house  this  morning,  and  does  not  even 
show  herself  at  a window. 

But  Lord  Claude’s  easel  is  under  the  cedar.  He  has 
seen  his  lordship  enter  the  house,  has  caught  sight  of  him 
at  the  window,  and  he  feels  assured,  in  his  own  mind,  that 
Hetty  and  he  are  together  in  the  sitting-room,  talking,  per- 
haps, about  him,  unless  they  are  too  much  interested  in 
thinking  only  of  themselves ; and  he  smiles  with  fiendish 
joy  at  the  thought  that  the  little  revolver  he  carries  in  his 
pocket  will  quickly  dispose  of  both  of  them. 

For  the  moment  he  forgets  Mrs.  Hamblin.  He  never 
dreams  that  she  is  in  the  room  with  the  lovers ; he  would  be 
more  inclined  to  suppose  that  she  had  gone  out  for  the  pur- 
pose of  leaving  them  undisturbed,  and  he  observes  with  a 
grin  that  the  sitting-room  window  is  wide  open,  and  noth- 
ing will  be  more  easy  for  him  than  to  vault  into  the  room, 
or  lean  over  half-way,  discharge  his  weapon  and  disappear 
as  noiselessly  as  he  came. 

But  it  is  not  in  his  dastardly  nature  to  walk  up  to  the 
house  boldly  and  commit  the  crime  he  meditates. 

He  has  a fox-like  face,  he  has  a fox-like  nature  as  well, 
and  though  he  is  desperate  enough  to  risk  his  own  life  for 
the  sake  of  securing  his  revenge  he  is  cunning  enough  also 
to  try  to  hide  himself  while  seeking  his  prey. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


175 


Between  the  shrubbery  and  the  house  is  an  open  path, 
which  he  must  cross,  and  Mrs.  Hamblin,  watching  him  un- 
seen from  behind  a lace  curtain,  observes  that  he  looks  to 
the  right  and  to  the  left  cautiously,  then  makes  a dart 
across  the  open  space  and  hides  in  a bank  of  tall  rhodo- 
dendrons. 

His  movements  alone  are  sufficient  to  excite  suspicion, 
for  no  man  hides  himself  and  creeps  up  to  the  house  like  a 
serpent  unless,  like  the  angry  reptile,  he  is  prepared  to  use 
his  deathly  fangs. 

That  he  means  mischief  the  trainer’s  wife  is  now  con- 
vinced. He  is  coming  closer  to  the  window,  he  thrusts  his 
right  hand  into  his  breast-pocket  and  takes  from  it  some- 
thing that  gleams  in  the  sunlight. 

The  next  instant  he  has  placed  his  left  hand  upon  the  sill 
of  the  open  window,  preparatory  to  springing  into  the  room, 
and  she,  acting  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  pulls  down 
the  sash  quickly,  just  as  a flash  of  fire  and  the  report  of  a 
pistol  shot  startle  her  and  make  Hetty  spring  to  her  side 
and,  clinging  to  her  in  terror,  look  through  the  closed  win- 
dow at  the  scene  that  is  being  enacted  within  a few  yards 
of  them. 

Jem  Blake’s  revolver  is  lying  on  the  gravel  path,  knocked 
out  of  his  hand  by  the  loaded  head  of  the  whip  with  which 
Lord  Claude  is  now  belaboring  him. 

His  lordship  had  caught  the  fellow  by  the  back  of  the 
neck  as  he  recoiled  in  surprise  at  the  window  being  closed  in 
his  face,  and,  having  knocked  the  revolver  from  his  grasp, 
he  now  lays  the  thin,  stinging  whip  upon  him  with  a will. 

Jem  is  a little  fellow,  but  he.  is  strong  and  wiry,  and  he 
wriggles  like  an  eel. 

But  Lord  Claude  holds  him  with  a grasp  that  cannot  be 
shaken  off,  and  the  struggles  of  the  helpless  wretch  only 
expose  his  head  and  face  and  hands,  as  well  as  his  legs  and 
shoulders,  to  the  swiftly  descending  lash. 

For  fully  ten  minutes  Jem  Blake’s  punishment  continues. 


J 


176  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

At  first  he  fights  and  struggles  sullenly  and  in  silence. 

Then,  as  the  cuts  from  the  whip  became  keener  and  more 
stinging,  and  he  realizes  his  own  helplessness,  he  begins  to 
whine  and  cry,  like  the  cur  that  he  is;  to  beg  for  mercy, 
and  to  vow  that  he  will  never  do  it  again  if  his  lordship  will 
let  him  off  this  time. 

The  task  of  chastising  a villain  is  fatiguing,  and  gradually 
the  cuts  from  the  wThip  become  less  frequent ; not  from 
compassion,  but  because  Lord  Claude  is  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted with  his  unusual  exertions. 

It  is  not,  however,  until  Hetty  flings  up  the  window-sash 
again,  and,  in  evident  distress  at  the  sight  of  the  fellow's 
sufferings,  cries,  “Do  let  him  go,  my  lord  ! Don't  strike 
him  any  more — don't,  I pray  of  you!”  that  Jem  Blake 
looks  up  with  any  hope  of  release. 

But  Lord  Claude  is  savage  that  she  should  beg  for  mercy 
for  the  wretch  who  would  have  murdered  her  yesterday, 
and  who  has  been  caught  in  the  act  of  attempting  her  life 
again  to-day. 

Ilis  blows  had  begun  to  flag ; now  they  become  quicker 
and  more  stinging,  for  the  cries  of  the  wretch  have  ceased, 
and  he  answers,  sharply: 

“ I haven't  done  with  him  yet.  I'll  give  him  a lesson 
that  he  will  not  forget  to  the  day  of  his  death  ! ” 

And  he  continues  the  punishment  with  renewed  vigor,  the 
savage  strain  in  his  nature  coming  strongly  to  the  surface 
and  making  him  gloat  over  his  worthless  victim's  sufferings. 

“ I cannot  bear  this  ! I will  not  bear  it  ! ” cries  Hetty, 
excitedly.  “ He  will  kill  him,  mother  ! Do  interfere  ; do 
stop  this  horrible  scene  ! ” 

“ You  had  better  leave  them  alone  ! ” says  Mrs.  Hamblin, 
turning  away,  unable  to  bear  the  sight  any  longer.  “ He 
meant  to  shoot  one  of  us,  and  he  richly  deserves  all  that  he 

gets.” 

But  Hetty  scarcely  listens  to  her  prudent  words. 

She  has  run  through  the  hall  into  the  garden,  and  is 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  177 

now  standing  between  Lord  Claude  and  the  wretch  whom 
he  is  so  severely  chastising. 

“ Spare  him,  my  lord!  Spare  him!  You  must  stop; 
you  shall  not  strike  him  any  more  ! ” She  first  entreats, 
then  cries  imperiously. 

“No  ! ” she  adds,  facing  Lord  Claude,  and  undaunted  by 
the  whip,  which  he  raises  in  defiance  of  her  assertion.  If 
you  strike  again,  you  will  strike  me  ! ” 

Her  determined  attitude  ends  the  painful  scene. 

The  whip  does  not  descend  as  intended.  The  arm  that 
wields  it  is  lowered,  and  a frown  gathers  over  Lord  Claudels 
handsome  face,  as  he  says,  angrily: 

“ Hetty ; you  will  live  to  repent  this  mistaken  kindness  ! 
This  fellow  is  a cur  who  must  have  all  the  spite  whipped 
out  of  him  to  make  him  harmless.” 

“I  don't  believe  it ; there  is  good  in  him  still,”  cries  the 
girl,  excitedly. 

Then,  turning  to  the  lashed  and  almost  senseless  wretch, 
who  has  been  so  determined  to  end  her  own  young  life,  she 
says,  pitifully  : 

“Jem,  do  go  away  and  be  a good  man.  Try  to  forget 
the  past,  and  start  a new  life  in  a new  country.  Forget 
me,  and  only  remember  that  I always  wished  you  well ! ” 

“It's  more  than  anybody  else  has  done!”  growls  Jem, 
gloomily. 

And,  being  released  from  Lord  Claude's  grip,  he  shuffles 
away,  though  he  makes  one  lurch  for  the  revolver  that  lies 
so  temptingly  near  him. 

Lord  Claude  springs  upon  him,  however,  before  he  can 
touch  the  weapon,  and  turns  tauntingly  to  Hetty,  and 
says : 

“ You  see  what  a wretch  you  have  befriended ! He 
would  shoot  you  down  now  as  remorsely  as  I would  kill  a 
sparrow.” 

“I  don't  believe  it,  my  lord,”  is  the  ready  response; 
“ and  a sparrow  values  his  life,  I don't  doubt,  as  much  as 


178  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

any  human  being.  Let  him  go  this  time.  I am  not  afraid 
of  him.” 

“ I feel  very  much  more  inclined  to  hand  him  over  to  the 
police/’  is  the  reply,  “and  let  him  take  his  trial  for 
attempted  murder.” 

“No,  let  him  go  now,”  pleads  the  girl. 

“You  won’t  do  it  again,  will  you,  Jem?”  she  asks,  turn- 
ing to  the  quivering  wretch  who  so  little  merits  her  inter- 
cession. 

But  he  frowns  and  makes  no  answer,  while  Lord  Claude 
says,  exultingly  : 

“ You  see  he  will  not  promise  ! It  is  a question,  in  his 
mind,  of  your  life  or  his.” 

“Still,  let  him  go,”  pleads  Hetty,  earnestly.  “I  am  not 
afraid  of  him,”  she  adds,  with  simple  faith.  “Life  is  given 
to  us  from  on  High,  and  every  plot  against  my  life  must 
fail,  unless  I am  called  by  my  Heavenly  Father  to  resign  it.” 

“I  s’pose  that’s  true,”  mutters  Jem  Blake,  under  his 
breath.  “ I’ve  tried  it  twice  and  failed ; I shan’t  try  no 
more.  But  he  is  right,  he  has  given  me  a lesson  I’m  not 
likely  to  forget ! ” 

He  grinds  his  teeth  with  impotent  fury,  as  he  thus  medi- 
tates ; but  he  makes  no  effort  to  release  himself  from  the 
strong,  muscular  hand  that  holds  him,  and  it  is  Hetty’s 
voice  that  again  intercedes  in  his  favor  as  she  pleads  : 

“ Do  let  him  go  ! He  isn’t  really  bad ; and  I cannot  bear 
to  see  you  striking  him  ! ” 

“So  be  it ! ” replies  his  lordship,  impatiently. 

And  he  gives  the  fellow  a jerk  and  a spin,  flinging  him 
to  a short  distance,  as  he  might  fling  a cur  that  had  snapped 
at  him. 

Jem  Blake  makes  no  sound,  and  utters  no  complaint,  but 
limps  away  into  the  high-road  as  quickly  as  his  pained  limbs 
will  carry  him. 

He  is  smarting  terribly  ! 

His  head,  face,  neck,  and  arms  are  one  mass  of  cuts  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  179 

bruises ; he  cannot  move  a limb  or  a muscle  without  ex- 
quisite torture. 

But  for  all  this,  he  is  more  wounded  in  spirit  than  in 
body ; the  remembrance  that  it  was  Hetty,  whom  he  meant 
to  kill,  who  interceded  in  his  favor,  who  saved  him  from 
further  punishment,  who  expressed  her  belief  in  his  good- 
ness of  heart  and  in  his  powerlessness  to  do  her  harm,  has  a 
strange  and  humiliating  effect  upon  him. 

It  is  not  in  him  to  rise  to  her  moral  and  intellectual  level. 

What  to  her  is  faith,  in  him  becomes  superstition,  but 
the  feeling  is  strong  upon  him,  nevertheless,  that  he  cannot 
harm  her,  that  she  bears  a charmed  life,  that  darts  aimed 
against  her  must  fail  and  plots  prove  futile,  that  she  is  as 
much  beyond  his  reach  as  an  angelic  being  of  another 
sphere,  and  that,  try  as  he  will,  he  will  never  be  able  to 
reach  her. 

But  toward  Lord  Claude  Irongate  his  feeling  are  widely 
different. 

He  has  felt  his  lordship^s  cruel  grip  upon  his  neck,  has 
quivered  under  his  still  more  cruel  lash  upon  his  limbs,  and 
he  vows,  with  a fearful  oath,  that  for  all  that  he  has  suf- 
fered this  morning  he  will  be  fully  and  amply  avenged. 

But  he  is  not  the  only  person  who  desires  to  be  avenged 
upon  Lord  Claude  for  wrongs  inflicted  upon  himself,  or 
upon  another. 

“ The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly; 

But  they  grind  exceeding  small.” 

And  Lord  Claude  pursues  his  way,  conscious  that  a few 
men  hate  him  — possibly  not  without  cause  — but  quite  in- 
different to  their  feelings,  and  apprehending  no  danger  to 
himself  therefrom. 

When  Jem  Blake  is  gone,  he  turns  to  Hetty,  and  says,  in 
a tone  of  displeasure  : 

“You  ought  not  to  have  interfered  in  this  matter,  my 
dear.  The  fellow  deserved  ten  times  more  than  he  got” 


180 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“But  you  beat  him  cruelly  — savagely!”  expostulates 
Hetty. 

“I  ought  to  have  given  him  in  charge  of  the  police,”  he 
retorts,  angrily,  “and  I wish  I had  done  so.” 

“You  could  scarcely  thrash  him  yourself  and  give  him 
over  to  the  police  afterward,”  she  remarks,  coldly.  “But 
I am  glad  he  is  gone,  and  I hope  I shall  never  see  him 
again,”  she  adds,  with  a little  shiver. 

“Yes,  I think  you  have  good  cause  to  be  afraid  of  him,” 
says  his  lordship,  taking  her  arm  and  leading  her  back  into 
the  house.  “ He  is  an  ugly  customer,  and  you  will  be  safer 
to  be  out  of  his  way  for  awhile.” 

“Yes,  my  lord,  we  leave  here  early  to-morrow  morning,” 
says  Mrs.  Hamblin,  who  has  just  joined  them,  “and  while 
we  are  away  it  might  be  as  well  if  you  wrere  to  set  the  police 
to  look  after  Jem  Blake.  I meant  to  have  kept  his  attempt 
upon  Hetty’s  life  yesterday  a secret,  but  his  behavior  to-day 
proves  that  to  be  impossible.” 

“ Perhaps  so,”  is  the  reply  ; “ but  we  will  wait  till  he  turns 
up  again.  We  will  let  him  off  this  time,  but  let  him  cross 
my  path  once  more  and  he  shall  find  no  mercy.” 

“I  hope  he  will  not  do  so,”  says  Hetty,  with  a shiver  of 
pain ; then  she  seats  herself  by  the  window  and  looks  up 
the  narrow  drive  which  leads  to  the  high-road. 

She  has  been  here  for  a few  minutes,  paying  little  heed 
to  a discussion  between  her  mother  and  Lord  Claude  as  to 
the  relative  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  Walberswick 
as  a temporary  residence,  when  she  sees  a large  open  car- 
riage, drawn  by  a pair  of  bays,  and  containing  a lady,  com- 
ing down  the  lane  toward  the  house. 

Her  exclamation  of  surprise  attracts  the  attention  of  her 
companions,  both  of  whom  come  to  the  window  and  follow 
her  gaze. 

“ Somebody  coming  here  ! ” says  Lord  Claude,  shortly,  and 
in  a tone  indicative  of  anything  but  satisfaction. 

“ Yes  ; if  it  is  Lady  Daphne  we  won’t  see  her,”  remarks 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  18i 

Mrs.  Hamblin,  resolutely.  “She  insulted  me  the  last  time 
she  was  here. 

“It  is  not  my  sister;  it  is  Lady  Edward  Tavenner,” 
remarks  his  lordship,  coldly. 

He  is  surprised  to  see  the  faces  of  his  companions  change 
as  he  says  this. 

Hetty's  cheeks  become  pale  and  red  alternately  ; but  Mrs. 
Hamblin's  face  is  white  as  if  blanched  with  a great  terror, 
and  she  says,  hurriedly  : 

“ I cannot  see  her  ! I would  not  meet  her  for  a hundred 
pounds  ! Hetty,  you  must  speak  to  her  alone,  I am  going 
to  my  own  room ; and,  Lord  Claude,  please  oblige  me  by 
not  letting  her  see  you.  Oh,  how  I wish  we  had  gone  out 
of  town  to-day,  so  that  I had  escaped  this  ordeal  ! ” 

Then,  clasping  her  hands  in  her  agitation,  she  hastens  to 
her  own  bedroom,  where  she  locks  herself  in ; while  Lord 
Claude  says,  moodily : 

“I  suppose  I must  leave  you,  as  I am  requested  to  do  so." 

And  he  snatches  up  his  hat  and  goes  out  by  the  way  to 
the  stables ; while  Hetty,  with  her  heart  beating  wildly, 
her  color  coming  and  going  in  quick  succession,  and  her 
eyes  gleaming  like  twin  stars,  stands  nervously  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  Gilbert  Tavenner's  mother. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

“Does  Hetty  Hamblin  live  here?"  asks  Lady  Edward 
Tavenner,  haughtily,  when  her  footman's  loud  knock  had 
brought  Molly  to  the  door. 

“ Yes,  my  lady  ; will  you  step  inside,  please,  my  lady  ? " 
replies  Molly,  bobbing  and  smiling  in  a familiar  fashion, 
that  makes  the  proud  woman  regard  her  with  haughty  dis- 
pleasure. 

For  a second  or  two  her  ladyship  makes  no  answer ; her 
impulse  is  to  say,  coldly  : 


182 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“No,  tell  her  to  come  to  me.” 

But  prudence  whispers  in  her  ear  that  it  will  be  well  not 
to  conduct  this  interview  in  the  presence  of  servants,  and 
she  is  curious,  also,  to  see  what  this  girl  is  like  in  her  own 
home. 

So,  after  remaining  undecided  for  a few  minutes,  while 
Molly  and  the  footman  look  at  her  proud  face,  the  latter 
with  patience,  the  former  with  wonder,  she  rises,  and 
slowly  descends  from  the  open  carriage,  then  with  languid 
and  stately  steps  she  follows  Molly  into  the  sitting-room. 

With  one  glance  she  takes  in  all  her  surroundings. 

The  cheap  but  pretty  cretonne  with  which  the  curtains 
are  made  and  the  furniture  is  covered  ; the  stained  and 
polished  floor,  with  a few  mats  lying  about  for  use ; the 
terra-cotta  jars,  the  unframed  pictures  that  adorn  the  walls, 
and  the  flowers  which  grow  in  ornamental  pots,  as  well  as 
the  cut  flowers  that  stand  in  colorless  glasses  of  the  cheapest 
description. 

Nothing  is  pretentious  here,  nothing  common  or  vulgar. 

The  room  might  belong  to  the  wife  of  an  artist  or  a 
clergyman ; to  one  who  was  poor  in  this  worlds  goods,  but 
whose  natural  refinement  and  love  of  beauty  overcame  the 
circumstance  of  her  poverty ; or  it  might  be  the  home  of 
of  one  who  was  rich,  but  whose  simple  tastes  were  well 
expressed  by  her  surroundings. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  is  impressed  by  what  she  sees, 
though  she  did  not  come  here  to  look  upon  anything  with 
favor ; and  the  girl  who  is  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  waiting  to  receive  her,  only  increases  her  surprise 
and  dissatisfaction. 

The  agitating  scene  through  which  Hetty  has  so  recently 
passed  has  left  its  traces  upon  her,  in  the  glistening  eyes, 
which  the  long,  curling  lashes  cannot  completely  hide,  in 
the  fluctuating  color  on  her  cheeks,  and  the  timid  manner 
in  which  she  waits  to  hear  what  Gilbert  ^venner’s  mother 
has  to  say  to  her. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


183 

She  is  unconsciously  looking  her  very  best,  and  the  pale, 
blue  cambric  gown  she  wears  is  quite  as  becoming  as  though 
it  were  made  of  the  most  costly  silk. 

“ Will  your  ladyship  take  a seat?”  asks  Hetty,  timidly. 

And  Lady  Edward,  with  stately  condescension,  accepts 
the  proffered  courtesy. 

She  has  not  come  here,  as  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  came, 
to  dictate  to  the  Hamblins,  to  humiliate  and  insult  them; 
but  it  is  more  than  doubtful  if  her  feelings  toward  them 
are  in  the  slightest  degree  more  cordial. 

Her  experience  of  the  world  has  been  too  varied  for  her 
to  expect  to  ride  rough-shod  over  everybody  who  opposes 
her,  and  she  knows  full  well  that,  if  you  want  to  mold 
people  to  your  will,  you  must  enter  into  their  thoughts, 
consider  their  prejudices,  and  influence  them  through  their 
pride  or  their  passions. 

She  has  come  now  to  inspect  the  ground  before  beginning 
mining  operations,  and  her  first  impression  is  very  unfavor- 
able in  so  far  as  the  probable  success  of  her  schemes  are 
concerned. 

For  some  time  past  she  has  heard  of  Hetty  Hamblin;  she 
had  seen  the  portrait  of  her  husband’s  charger,  Nestor, 
which  the  girl  had  painted  for  her  son,  and  she  was  present, 
it  will  be  remembered,  when  that  portrait  was  destroyed  by 
Lady  Daphne;  and  she  had  since  heard  something  from 
Gilbert  that  has  alarmed  her  far  more  than  the  rupture  of 
his  engagement  with  Lord  Claude’s  sister. 

But  she  has  never  seen  Hetty  before  to-day;  and  she  had 
pictured  to  herself  a girl  handsome  and  bold  looking, 
striking  and  artistic  to  a certain  extent,  but  coarse,  despite 
her  beauty;  lacking  in  every  sense  the  repose  and  refine- 
ment 

**  That  marks  the  caste  of  Yere  de  Yere.” 

Hetty,  however,  does  not  come  up  to  her  anticipations  in 
this  respect. 

She  is  not  bold,  nor  loud,  nor  strikingly  handsome.  On 


184 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

the  contrary,  she  is  quiet,  refined,  and  exquisitely  lovely; 
but  her  loveliness  grows  upon  you  ! It  is  not  glaringly 
apparent  at  once.  At  first  you  feel  that  you  are  in  the 
presence  of 

“ A creature  all  too  wise  and  good 
For  human  nature’s  daily  food.” 

And  though  this  impression  gradually  wears  off,  and  you 
recognize  that  Hetty  Hamblin  is  very  human  after  all,  the 
sanctity  of  innocence  that  surrounds  her  never  fades. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  has  no  thought  of  being  discour- 
teous and  unkind  to  Hetty. 

As  she  finds  her  so  much  superior  to  anything  she  had 
anticipated,  a feeling  of  genuine  regret  comes  into  her  heart 
that  the  inequality  of  birth  and  rank  make  a marriage 
between  her  son  and  this  girl  a step  not  to  be  thought  of  as 
possible. 

But  she  quickly  drives  such  feelings  from  her  mind  ; 
from  her  point  of  view  such  a match  is  impossible,  and  it 
is  her  business  to  make  both  Hetty  and  Gilbert  feel  that  it 
is  so. 

“ You  had  better  sit  down,  likewise,”  she  says  to  Hetty,  in 
a tone  she  means  to  be  gracious. 

And,  as  the  girl  complies,  she  adds,  courteously,  though 
still  with  an  arrogant  ring  in  her  voice  : 

“ I want  you  to  do  something  for  me.  You  painted  the 
portrait  of  a horse  for  my  son  a few  weeks  ago,  and  an  acci- 
dent has  befallen  the  picture.  I want  another  copy.  I 
suppose  there  will  be  no  difficulty  about  it  ? ” 

“ When  does  your  ladyship  want  it  ? ” inquires  Hetty, 
with  apparent  calmness. 

Her  face  had  flushed  at  the  mention  of  “ my  son  ; ” but 
she  had  kept  her  eyes  steady,  had  not  consciously  moved  a 
muscle,  and  she  asks  this  question  rather  to  accustom  her- 
self to  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  than  because  she  medi- 
tates painting  the  picture  in  a hurry. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 185 

“Oh,  I don't  know!”  is  the  careless  answer;  “next 
week,  or  the  week  after,  or  the  week  after  that.  ” 

“My  mother  and  I are  going  to  the  seaside  to-morrow,” 
remarks  Hetty,  thoughtfully ; “ so  that  I am  afraid  it  could 
not  be  done  at  once.  And”  — she  adds,  hesitating,  and 
looking  for  sympathy  in  the  eyes  of  her  visitor  — “I  don't 
think  I should  be  able  to  paint  the  same  picture  over  again 
— in  the  same  way.” 

“And  why,  pray  ?”  is  the  cold  and  pitiless  question. 

“I  don't  quite  know,”  replied  the  girl,  hanging  her  head 
and  playing  nervously  with  a piece  of  thread  she  has  picked 
up  from  the  table.  “ I suppose  it  is  because  I am  not  a 
properly- trained  artist,”  she  continues. 

“Please  explain  yourself,”  says  her  ladyship,  sharply. 

“I  am  very  unequal  in  my  work,”  says  Hetty,  feeling  that 
she  must  try  to  make  herself  intelligible.  “ If  I like  a sub- 
ject, and  think  I can  paint  it,  I can  usually  do  it  pretty 
well ; but  I must  feel  that  I can  do  it,  and  I don't  feel  that 
I can  paint  Nestor  over  again.” 

“That  is  very  unfortunate,”  returns  her  ladyship,  with  a 
barely-repressed  sneer.  “ I suppose  you  know  how  the  origi- 
nal portrait  came  to  be  destroyed  ? ” 

“No;  how  did  it  happen?”  asks  Hetty,  with  such  a 
frank  and  truthful  expression  in  her  clear  eyes  and  upon 
her  beautiful  face  that  it  is  Lady  Edward's  turn  to  look 
confused,  and  she  says  sharply  and  evasively  : 

“ It  does  not  matter.  I thought  my  son  might  have  men- 
tioned it  to  you.” 

“ Oh,  no  ! ” replies  Hetty,  in  such  a tone  that  Lady 
Edward  begins  to  wonder  if  she  has  become  unnecessarily 
alarmed,  and  if  there  is  really  any  danger  to  her  son  from 
this  quarter. 

But  she  feels  that  she  must  not  show  her  motive  for 
coming  here  too  openly,  and  she  says,  in  a more  genial 
tone : 

“ Well,  perhaps  you  will  feel  more  inclined  to  paint  the 


186 


FOILED  BY  LOVE, 


picture  I want  when  you  come  home  from  the  seaside.  By 
the  way,  can  you  paint  dogs  as  well  as  horses  ?” 

“ I don't  know,”  replies  Hetty,  thoughtfully.  “I  used 
to  think  I could  not,  but  I have  been  doing  this  recently  ; 
it  is  not  finished,  as  you  will  perceive.” 

And  she  turns  a canvas,  which  has  been  standing  with  its 
face  to  the  wall,  so  that  the  light  falls  upon  it. 

“ That  is  a very  creditable  piece  of  work  for  one  so 
young,”  says  her  ladyship,  in  genuine  surprise. 

Then  she  asks,  suddenly  : 

“ Would  you  like  to  go  to  London  and  study  at  the  Royal 
Academy,  if  someone  like  myself  would  help  you  with 
money  ?” 

Hetty's  face  flushes. 

Only  a few  weeks  ago  she  would  have  jumped  eagerly  at 
this  implied  offer  of  help  ; now  she  feels  that  there  is  dan- 
ger in  it  — a danger  which  she  cannot  define,  the  very 
character  of  which  is  vague ; but  her  instinct  warns  her 
against  it,  and  she  replies,  evasively  : 

“ I should  like  to  be  well  taught,  but  I could  not  leave 
my  father  and  mother,  nor  should  I care  to  study  with  a 
number  of  other  people.  ” 

"In  that  case  you  are  never  likely  to  do  much,”  says  her 
ladyship,  in  a tone  of  disappointment ; "but  I will  give  you 
a commission  to  paint  my  dog,  Sophy,  and  you  can  execute 
it  when  you  return  from  your  trip.” 

“ Thank  you,  my  lady  ! ” replies  Hetty,  nervously. 

“ To  what  part  of  the  coast  are  you  going  ? ” is  Lady 
Edward’s  next  question. 

Hetty  tells  her,  volunteering  the  information  that  she 
and  her  mother  are  going  alone,  for  the  sake  of  her  health. 

“ Ah ! you  don't  look  very  strong,”  Lady  Edward  remarks, 
thoughtfully  ; “'and  your  hands  are  tied  up  ! My  son  told 
me  something  about  your  being  injured  yesterday  by  a ruf- 
fian who  tried  to  throw  you  into  the  river.” 

“Yes,  I should  have  been  drowned  if  it  had  not  been  for 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 187 

Mr.  Tavenner,”  replies  Hetty,  warmly,  and  tears  unbidden 
spring  to  her  eyes  as  she  speaks. 

“ Oh,  he  did  nothing  more  for  you  than  he  would  have 
done  for  any  one  else  under  the  circumstances  ! ” says  the 
mother,  coldly  and  haughtily.  “ It  was  the  merest  chance 
in  the  world  that  brought  him  to  the  spot ; if  I had  not 
telegraphed,  requesting  him  to  come  to  me  before  he  left 
England,  he  would  probably  have  been  where  he  is  now  — 
on  his  way  to  Paris.” 

Hetty  is  silent. 

She  would  like  to  ask  many  questions  ; she  does  not  dare 
to  ask  one. 

Lady  Edward's  tone  and  manner  show  her  very  distinctly 
the  social  gulf  that  yawns  between  Gilbert  and  herself,  a 
gulf  which  no  effort  on  her  part,  no  self-sacrifice,  no 
amount  of  devotion  will  ever  be  able  to  span. 

If  it  is  ever  bridged  over,  if  they  two  may  ever  join 
hands  from  opposite  sides  of  the  gulf,  it  must  be  by  his 
strong  will  and  his  all-conquering  love,  not  by  anything 
that  she  can  do  or  say  to  help  him. 

But  she  does  not  anticipate  it. 

Lady  Edward's  tone  and  manner  crush  out  even  the 
faint  glimmer  of  hope  which  Gilbert  Tavenner's  confession 
of  love  had  kindled  in  her  heart. 

She  loves  him,  and  will  love  him  to  the  end.  She  be- 
lieves that  he  will  keep  the  promise  he  voluntarily  made,  and 
will  remain  unmarried  so  long  as  she  is  single,  and  there  is 
a hope  of  winning  her.  But,  for  all  this,  her  heart  sinks 
heavily  in  her  breast ; his  mother's  visit,  for  the  time,  has 
crushed  all  the  spirit  and  hopefulness  out  of  her. 

“If  you  ever  change  your  mind,  and  desire  to  live  in 
London  and  study  art,  as  cheaply  and  thoroughly  as  pos- 
sible, you  can  apply  to  me  and  I shall  probably  be  disposed 
to  help  you,”  says  Lady  Edward,  in  her  haughty,  arrogant 
manner,  as  she  moves  toward  the  door. 


188 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


u Your  ladyship  is  very  kind,”  responds  Hetty,  with 
simple  dignity. 

“And  let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  return  and  wish  to 
begin  my  dog’s  portrait.” 

“Yes,  my  lady.” 

“ If  it  is  not  convenient  for  me  to  have  you  at  the  Hall, 
I can  send  Sophy  over  to  you,”  continues  Lady  Edward, 
looking  about  her  while  she  speaks,  and  seemingly  unwilling 
to  go. 

Hetty  bows  her  head,  and  her  visitor,  having  no  further 
excuse  for  remaining,  walks  out  to  her  carriage,  Hetty 
accompanying  her. 

“You  have  a pretty  place  here,”  says  her  ladyship,  glanc- 
ing around.  “ Almost  too  pretty  ! ” she  adds,  sotto  voce. 

Then  she  steps  into  her  carriage,  bows  with  evident  con- 
descension to  Hetty,  and  is  driven  away,  unconscious  that, 
while  she  is  seating  herself  to  her  own  satisfaction,  a pale 
face  at  one  of  the  upper  windows  is  curiously  and  eagerly 
scanning  her  countenance. 

Scarcely  has  the  carriage  gone  a dozen  paces  from  the  door 
than  Mrs.  Hamblin,  with  singularly  white  face  and  agitated 
manner,  leaves  her  room  and  joins  her  daughter. 

“ Why  did  she  come  ? What  did  she  want  ? Did  she 
ask  to  see  me  ? ” she  inquires,  eagerly,  question  following 
question  in  rapid  succession. 

“ She  never  mentioned  your  name,  mother,  dear ; she 
never  thought  of  you,”  says  the  girl,  soothingly.  “But  I 
suppose  you  knew  her  in  the  days  gone  by,  didn’t  you  ? ” 

“Never  mind  ! We  have  met,  and  we  shall  never  meet 
again  if  I can  help  it ! ” is  the  agitated  answer. 

“But  tell  me  what  she  said  to  you,”  she  continues,  her 
usual  calm  self-possession  overcome  by  her  nervous  anxiety. 

Hetty  repeats  most  of  what  has  passed  between  Lady 
Edward  Tavenner  and  herself,  but,  before  she  has  finished, 
Mrs.  Hamblin  exclaims,  bitterly  : 

“ She  wants  to  get  you  out  of  the  way  of  her  son  ! But 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


189 


didn’t  you  explain  to  her  that  she  need  be  under  no  anxiety 
— that  you  are  going  to  marry  Lord  Claude  Irongate  ? ” 

“ Certainly  not ! ” replies  Hetty,  with  dignity.  “ I should 
have  been  much  more  likely  to  say  that  I shall  never  marry 
at  all,  if  Lady  Edward  had  not  had  too  much  good  taste  to 
talk  to  me  on  such  a subject  the  first  time  we  met ! ” 

Then  she  hastens  to  her  own  room  to  weep  bitter  tears  of 
pain  and  mortification  at  being  thought  unworthy  of  Gil- 
bert’s love  by  the  one  woman  who  can  control  his  destiny. 

On  the  plea  of  a headache,  which  is  but  too  real,  she 
avoids  meeting  Lord  Claude  again  to-day.  But  he  comes 
the  next  morning,  just  as  she  and  her  mother  are  about  to 
step  into  the  wagonette  that  is  to  take  them  to  the  rail- 
way station. 

“Hetty,  I must  speak  to  you  alone  for  a few  minutes,”  he 
says,  peremptorily. 

And  as  the  girl  looks  appealingly  to  her  mother,  the 
latter  says,  carelessly  : 

“ Certainly,  why  not  ? But  you  must  not  be  long,  or  we 
shall  lose  our. train.” 

Dreading,  she  knows  not  what,  Hetty  walks  back  into 
the  sitting-room,  and  Lord  Claude  follows  her. 

A few  minutes  later  she  appears  again,  her  cheeks  red 
with  anger  and  her  eyes  flashing  with  indignation. 

She  smiles  mechanically  as  her  father  helps  her  into  the 
wagonette.  But  she  looks  steadily  away  from  Lord  Claude, 
and  she  does  not  voluntarily  give  him  her  hand  when  he 
takes  it  to  say  “Good-by,”  and  she  withdrawn  it  from  his 
clasp  as  speedily  as  possible. 

“ What  did  Lord  Claude  want  to  say  to  you  ? ” her  mother 
asks,  a couple  of  hours  later,  when  they  are  on  their  wray 

to  Suffolk. 

“ He  threatened  me  ! ” replies  Hetty,  briefly. 

Then  mother  and  daughter  relapse  into  silence,  never 
dreaming  that  the  journey  they  are  now  making  is  about  to 
add  another  thread  to  the  web  of  their  destiny. 

13 


190 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Hetty  and  her  mother  have  found  lodgings  in  the  cot- 
tage of  a fisherman,  close  to  the  village  green. 

They  have  been  in  Walberswick  three  days  only,  but 
already  the  roses  on  Hetty's  cheeks  are  taking  a deeper  hue, 
her  fair  skin  is  becoming  sunburnt,  her  step  is  more  buoy- 
ant than  of  old,  for  the  keen,  crisp,  bracing  northern  air 
which  blows  in  from  the  sea  gives  fresh  life  and  energy  to 
her  frame,  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  droop  like  a fair 
flower  too  long  exposed  to  the  glare  of  the  noonday  sun. 

Mrs.  Hamblin,  too,  is  looking  better  for  the  change. 

For  the  first  time  during  the  long  years  of  her  married 
life,  she  seems  to  cast  off  a portion  of  the  burden  which  has 
weighed  her  down  and  made  her  shrink  from  contact  with 
those  who  had  once  been  her  equals. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  had  not  meant  to  make  one  single  ac- 
quaintance during  her  absence  from  home,  but,  to  carry 
out  this  intention,  she  should  have  gone  to  some  crowded 
watering-place,  not  have  settled  herself  in  a quiet  nook, 
where,  on  a second  meeting  at  farthest,  everybody  spoke  to 
everybody  else  with  the  same  ease  and  freedom  that  you 
will  find  among  the  students  in  an  art  gallery. 

There  is  but  one  street,  and  that  is  the  most  uninterest- 
ing part  of  the  old  village ; but  even  here  you  will  find  an 
artist  with  his  easel  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  painting  the 
wind-mill  or  copying  a bit  of  the  ruins  of  the  fine  old  ' 
church,  a small  portion  of  which  has  been  saved  from  the  I 
general  wreck. 

On  the  common,  along  the  shore,  on  both  banks  of 
the  river,  there  are  artists  dotted  here  and  there,  some 
under  big  white  umbrellas,  all  of  them  earnestly  at  work  ! 
painting  the  steep,  red-tiled  roofs  of  the  quaint  cottages,  ; 
the  rafters  of  the  broken  piers,  the  net-houses,  the  boats 
and  the  picturesque  fishermen. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


191 


Some  of  the  lady  artists  are  very  pretty,  some  are  decid- 
edly plain,  but  they  are  all  industrious,  and  they  talk  to 
Hetty  as  though  they  had  known  her  for  months  instead  of 
their  acquaintance  dating  from  yesterday. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  vexed  at  this,  but  she  cannot  help  it ; 
circumstances  are  too  strong  for  her. 

Hitherto  she  has  kept  her  daughter  to  herself,  has  never 
allowed  her  to  have  a friend  of  her  own  age  and  sex,  but 
now  she  finds  this  extreme  exclusiveness  impossible. 

When  a girl  artist  looking  up  from  her  work  smiles  upon 
Hetty  and  asks,  “ Do  you  paint  ? ” the  latter  can  but  answer, 
and  though  Mrs.  Hamblin  may  walk  on  and  seat  herself  in 
some  boat  or  under  the  shelter  of  a net-house  she  cannot 
very  well  prevent  Hetty  from  lingering  behind  and  talking 
on  a subject  in  which  she  is  so  greatly  interested. 

It  is  in  vain  that  she  cautions  her  daughter,  saying : 

“Don't  make  friends  with  any  of  these  girls,  Hetty. 
They  are  very  nice  to  you  now,  because  they  think  we  are 
one  of  themselves,  but  when  they  discover  what  your  father 
is,  when  they  understand  our  true  position,  they  will  turn 
their  backs  upon  you  and  forget  to  know  you  if  by  chance 
you  meet.” 

“ I think  you  misjudge  them,  mother ; I am  sure  you  do 
some  of  them,  because  I have  heard  one  girl  speak  of  her 
friends,  wrho  are  poor,  poorer  than  we  are.  But  I am  enjoy- 
ing our  stay  here  so  much,  and  I am  learning  a great  deal. 
It  is  like  living  another  life  to  be  with  other  girls  who  un- 
derstand and  sympathize  with  my  feelings  about  my  work.” 

Mrs.  Hamblin  turns  away  and  sighs. 

Hetty  has  made  many  acquaintances,  but  there  is  one 
between  whom  and  herself  a warm  friendship  has  sprung 
up.  This  is  Laura  Mertonville,  a name  which  the  reader 
may  recollect  as  having  heard  once  before,  in  connection 
with  a far  less  fortunate  person  in  our  story. 

Although  Hetty  has  only  been  here  a few  days,  her  life  at 
Stanmoor  seems  like  something  in  the  far  past.  She  lives 


192 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


simply  in  the  present,  with  the  exception  that  Gilbert 
Tavenner  seems  nearer  to  her  now  than  he  has  ever  seemed 
before. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  Hetty  is  wandering  along 
the  sands  with  Miss  Mertonville. 

Mrs.  Hamblin,  having  been  out  all  the  morning,  is  now 
staying  at  home,  and  has  allowed  her  daughter  to  go  with- 
out her. 

Laura  Mertonville  is  a bright,  intelligent  girl,  four  or  five 
years  older  than  our  heroine,  by  no  means  pretty,  but  pleas- 
ing and  amiable,  thereby  securing  a whole  host  of  friends. 

She  has  taken  a great  fancy  to  Hetty ; she  means  to 
paint  her  portrait,  and  she  is  talking  to  her  now  rather  to 
study  her  changeful  countenance  than  from  any  great 
interest  in  the  subject  under  discussion,  when  suddenly 
Hetty  turns  to  look  at  a lady  sitting  before  an  easel, 
sketching  a passing  boat ; Laura's  eyes  follow  hers,  and 
she  exclaims,  impulsively: 

“Eugenie  ! Who  would  have  thought  of  meeting  you 
here  ? ” 

The  saddened  face  of  the  girl,  whom  we  first  knew  as 
Eugenie  de  Mgestro,  flushes  deeply. 

For  a second  or  two  she  seems  to  hesitate  whether  to  turn 
away  as  a stranger,  or  respond  to  the  greeting. 

Her  hesitation  is  but  momentary,  however ; then  she 
rises,  and  impulsively  fling  herself  upon  Laura's  breast. 

Hetty  feels  uncomfortable ; she  does  not  know  whether 
to  go  away  or  remain  where  she  is. 

While  she  thus  stands  in  doubt,  Eugenie  lifts  her  head, 
disengages  herself  from  her  friend's  embrace,  and  says,  with 
a deep-drawn  sigh: 

“Ah,  I have  been  nigh  unto  death,  and  I am  broken- 
hearted ! To  see  you  opens  up  all  my  wounds  afresh,  and 
yet  I rejoice  that  we  meet  again.” 

“I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you  like  this,”  returns  Laura 
Mertonville,  kindly  ; “ I have  often  wondered  what  became 


She  has  taken  his  flowers,  which  are  intended  as  a token  that  she  will  one  day  aecepl  him. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


193 


of  you  that  morning  that  you  asked  me  to  talk  with  your 
brother  in  the  British  Museum,  while  you  went  away  with- 
out him.  I heard  he  made  a great  scene  at  the  gates,  but 
why  or  wherefore  I could  never  understand.” 

“ Ah,  would  that  I had  never  gone  away  as  I went  that 
day  ! ” sighs  Eugenie.  “ But  regrets  are  useless  ; you  shall 
know  all  another  time,  for  here  comes  my  brother,  and  I 
must  not  take  you  from  your  friend.” 

“ Then  you  are  staying  in  this  place  ? ” asks  Laura,  in 
surprise. 

“Yes;  Leon  and  I have  taken  that  little  cottage  over 
there  for  a month.  We  only  came  yesterday,  and  he  will 
not  be  with  me  much  of  the  time.  The  woman  to  whom 
the  house  belongs  waits  upon  us,  and  our  life  is  most 
simple.” 

“You  don’t  look  well,”  says  Laura,  kindly. 

Then  she  asks,  in  an  undertone  : 

“Are  you  still  afraid  of  your  big  brother  ?” 

“ Oh,  no,  he  never  scolds  me  now  ! ” she  answers,  pathetic- 
ally. “ He  has  been  gentle  with  me  ever  since  my  great 
trouble,  when  I so  nearly  died.  But  hush  — I will  tell  you 
more  another  time.” 

Then,  turning  to  her  brother,  who  has  now  come  up  to 
them,  she  said,  with  a faint  smile  : 

“ Leon,  you  remember  Miss  Merton ville,  don’t  you  ? ” 

The  Mexican’s  face  does  not  readily  relax  into  a smile  ; 
he  still  resents  the  share  which  this  girl  had  in  helping  his 
sister  to  escape  from  him.  But  he  lifts  his  hat,  and  says 
gravely  and  without  much  cordiality: 

“I  do  remember  her,” 

“ And  do  not  forgive  me  ! ” asserts  Laura,  in  a pained 
tone.  “ But  really  you  have  nothing  to  forgive,  as  Eugenie 
will  tell  you.  She  only  said  to  me,  when  you  and  I last 
met,  ‘ Talk  to  my  brother  for  a few  minutes,’  and  I did  so. 
Of  her  intentions  I was  as  ignorant  then  as  I am  now.” 


194 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“It  is  true/’  assents  Eugenie,,  sadly.  “No  one  was  to 
blame  but  myself.” 

“Forgive  me  if  I wronged  you/’  says  the  handsome  Mex- 
ican, his  countenance  lighting  up  with  a smile. 

Then  looking  at  Hetty,  whose  face  had  attracted  him 
from  the  first,  he  asks,  courteously  : 

“ Your  sister,  I presume  ? ” 

“ Oh,  no  ; I have  no  sister,”  is  the  answer. 

Then  she  introduces  them  — 

“Miss  Hamblin — Senor  de  Maestro.” 

Hetty  and  Leon  bow  ; then  Eugenie  gathers  up  her  draw- 
ing materials  and  invites  the  two  girls  to  come  with  her  to 
their  cottage  and  have  afternoon  tea. 

Laura  accepts  at  once,  but  Hetty  feels  that  she  is  only 
asked  out  of  politeness ; she  likewise  doubts  if  her  mother 
would  approve  of  her  accepting  the  hospitality  of  a stranger, 
and  she  says,  timidly  : 

“ I fear  my  mother  will  be  alarmed  if  I do  not  return 
almost  immediately.” 

“We  can  send  a boy  round  to  tell  her  where  you  are,” 
volunteers  Leon  de  Maestro,  with  so  much  eagerness  that 
Eugenie  *is  surprised,  never  having  seen  him  take  so  much 
interest  in  any  girl  before ; and,  being  anxious  to  please  him, 
she  says,  warmly : 

“ Oh,  do  please  come  ; I will  send  to  your  mother  if  you 
wish  it,  and  we  will  not  keep  you  longer  than  you  like  to 
stay.” 

So  Hetty  is  persuaded  to  join  them,  and  thus  the  first 
link  is  forged  in  a chain  of  circumstances  that  must  materi- 
ally influence  the  destinies  of  many  of  those  in  whom  we 
are  interested. 

The  cottage  in  which  Leon  and  his  sister  are  living  is  no 
better  than  many  of  the  other  cottages  in  the  place,  though 
they  pay  a good  rent  for  it. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  siting-room  is  that  the 
front  door  opens  into  it,  but  Eugenie  has  adorned  the  walls 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


195 


with  some  of  her  sketches,  has  scattered  pretty  trifles  about, 
such  as  many  women  can  scarcely  live  without,  and  Leon 
has  succeeded  in  hiring  a piano,  so  that  the  little  place, 
though  humble,  is  home-like. 

A settled  melancholy  has  come  over  Eugenie  Trevor  since 
we  last  saw  her. 

In  that  fight  with  death  in  w<}iich  we  left  her,  the  doctors 
had  at  length  conquered,  but  she  came  back  to  life  to  find 
all  that  made  life  worth  living  gone  from  her  — through  no 
fault  of  her  own,  gone  from  her  beyond  recall ! 

At  first  she  would  not  believe  that  her  husband  had  given 
her  the  poison  that  so  nearly  killed  her,  and  even  when  the 
bottle  which  had  contained  it  was  found  in  her  workstand 
she  was  still  incredulous. 

But  his  continued  absence,  his  mysterious  silence,  and 
the  precautions  he  had  evidently  taken  to  baffle  pursuit  and 
to  make  inquiries  useless,  all  told  upon  the  poor  girl's 
weakened  frame,  and  when  her  child  was  prematurely  born  * 
and  her  last  hope  of  comfort  and  of  having  something 
dearer  than  herself  to  love  had  departed,  she  drifted  again 
so  near  to  the  borderland  of  death  that  for  a time  the  doc- 
tors despaired  of  her  recovery. 

Her  naturally  strong  constitution  triumphed  at  last,  and 
her  brother  has  left  her  house  in  the  charge  of  a policeman 
and  his  wife  and  has  brought  her  here,  hoping  that  change 
of  scene  and  some  occupation  may  distract  her  thoughts 
and  keep  her  mind  from  brooding  over  her  great  sorrows. 

She  tries  to  cast  off  her  gloom  in  the  presence  of  Laura 
and  Hetty,  and  she  is  agreeably  surprised  to  observe  how 
bright  and  animated  her  brother  has  become,  and  how 
attentive  he  is  to  the  the  fair  English  girl,  who  seems  to  be 
a little  afraid  of  his  admiration. 

Hetty’s  beauty  had  struck  her  at  the  first  glance,  and  the 
longer  she  looks  upon  her  sweet  face  the  more  it  grows 
upon  her,  and  she  feels  a singular  desire  to  take  her 
portrait. 


196 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


It  is  the  first  earnest  wish  she  has  had  since  the  total  wreck 
of  her  happiness  took  from  her  the  enjoyment  of  life. 

Something  of  this  she  implies  when  she  asks  Hetty  if  she 
will  sit  to  her,  and  Leon  seconds  the  request  so  earnestly 
that  Hetty  cannot  refuse,  but  answers  that  she  will  do  so 
with  pleasure  if  her  mother  makes  no  objection. 

“We  will  call  and  ask  your  mother  to-morrow,”  says 
Leon,  quickly. 

And  when  Hetty  says  she  really  must  go,  he  politely 
insists  upon  accompanying  her  to  her  own  door. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  vexed  when  Hetty  tells  her  of  the  new 
acquaintances  she  has  made. 

She  has  a dread  of  strangers. 

Though  she  would  not  say  so  to  Hetty,  she  fears  that  these 
people  may  regard  herself  and  her  daughter  as  adventuresses, 
as  living  under  false  pretenses,  when  they  discover  that, 
instead  of  being  in  a position  like  themselves,  they  are  but 
the  wife  and  daughter  of  a trainer  of  horses  — of  one  who, 
when  she  married  him,  was  her  own  groom. 

Of  the  folly  of  that  mad  step  she  has  repented  daily, 
never  more  so,  perhaps,  than  now,  when  her  surroundings 
least  remind  her  of  her  own  social  downfall. 

But  things  done  cannot  be  undone. 

And,  despite  Mrs.  Hamblin's  reserve  and  coldness, 
despite  the  manner  in  which  she  strives  to  repel  all  friend- 
liness, Hetty  is  irresistibly  drawn  into  daily  companionship 
with  Laura  Mertonville  and  with  Eugenie  and  her  brother. 

Though  it  is  now  but  the  end  of  September,  the  air  is 
keen  and  boisterous  in  exposed  places,  and  Hetty,  with 
Laura  and  Eugenie,  who  are  both  sketching  her,  will  sit 
among  the  rafters  of  the  tumble-down  pier,  while  the  two 
artists  work  away  industriously. 

Meanwhile  Leon  de  Maestro  will  be  smoking  at  a little 
distance,  pretending  to  read,  though  often,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  holding  his  book  upside  down  ; and  Mrs. 
Hamblin,  with  an  open  book  on  her  knee  and  some  needle- 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 197 

work  in  her  hands,  is  alternately  dreaming  and  watching 
the  group  before  her. 

For  the  sake  of  continuing  her  acquaintance  with  Hetty 
Eugenie  has  tried  to  ingratiate  herself  in  the  good-will  of 
Mrs.  Hamblin,  but  her  efforts  have  not  been  crowned 
with  success. 

Hetty’s  mother  is  coldly  polite  and  courteous,  but  she  is 
nothing  more ; she  submits  to  follow  her  daughter  rather 
than  let  her  go  out  of  her  sight. 

But  she  will  neither  give  nor  receive  any  confidence  ; and 
though  she  has  understood  from  Hetty,  who  has  been  told 
by  Laura,  that  Eugenie’s  husband  has  deserted  her,  she  will 
not  relax  her  freezing  manner  toward  the  unhappy  girl. 

She  is  secretly  also  a little  afraid  of  Leon  de  Maestro. 

His  admiration  for  Hetty  is  apparent  in  his  countenance, 
she  fears  he  may  put  it  into  words ; and  though  she  does 
not  for  a moment  suppose  that  her  daughter  will  be  in- 
fluenced by  his  love,  she  is  by  no  means  satisfied  that  Leon 
will  be  silenced  by  the  first  “no,”  but  fears  that  he  may 
follow  them  to  Stanmoor  and  ascertain  their  true  position. 

Under  these  circumstances,  much  as  she  enjoys  the  keen, 
fresh  air  and  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  scene  around  her,  she 
is  eagerly  counting  the  days  as  they  pass  by,  wishing  they 
would  go  still  faster  ; and  so  the  time  drifts  on,  until  there 
are  only  two  more  left  before  they  must  return. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  at  the  window  of  their  small  sitting- 
room,  that  looks  out  on  the  village  green. 

Her  dress  is  dark  and  neat  as  usual ; her  once  handsome 
face  is  cteeply  lined  with  care  and  vain  regrets,  rather  than 
with  age.  But  she  looks  every  inch  a lady ; nothing  can 
take  from  her  the  indications  of  gentle  birth  and  the 
refinement  that  is  the  result  of  generations  of  culture. 

She  is  going  to  join  Hetty  on  the  pier  presently ; but  she 
does  not  care  for  being  so  much  out  of  doors  as  does  her 
daughter,  and  the  latter  was  called  for  by  Laura  and 
Eugenie  a full  hour  ago. 


198 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


As  the  hour  of  their  departure  is  coming  nearer,  Mrs. 
Hamblin  is  growing  weary  of  following  her  daughter  and 
her  friends,  and  this  morning  she  is  reading  a newspaper 
that  the  postman  has  just  brought,  and  is  indulging  in  a 
comfortable  sensation  of  rest. 

No  presage  of  coming  evil  is  upon  her.  To  her  mental 
vision  the  sky  is  as  blue  and  clear  as  it  has  been  for  many  a 
long  day ; and  when,  with  the  consciousness  that  a pair  of 
eyes  are  fixed  upon  her,  she  looks  up  and  perceives  Lord 
Claude  outside  the  garden  gate,  she  smiles,  thinking  to 
herself : 

“He  could  not  live  any  longer  without  seeing  Hetty.” 

But  Lord  Claude’s  face  is  grave  and  sad  as  she  opens  the 
door  to  him,  and  scarcely  has  he  entered  the  sitting-room 
before  he  says,  dolefully  : 

“I  am  the  bearer  of  bad  news,  Mrs.  Hamblin.” 

“ Bad  news  ! ” she  repeats,  looking  at  him  in  dismay. 
“ What  news  can  be  bad  to  me  ? ” 

Then  a trembling  seizes  upon  her,  and  she  cries  wildly  : 
“He  isn’t  dead — don’t  tell  me  that  he  is  dead  ! I have 
wished  it  so  long,  that  I shall  feel  that  my  wishes  have 
helped  to  kill  him.” 

“You  could  not  feel  like  that  to  your  own  son,”  says  his 
lordship,  almost  sternly. 

“ My  son  ! ” she  cries,  gazing  at  him  in  amazement. 
“What,  Chris?” 

“Yes,  poor  Chris,”  replies  Lord  Claude,  sadly;  “he  met 

with  an  accident,  he  fell  from  a horse,  he  is  ” 

“ He  is  dead  ! ” gasps  the  mother,  slowly. 

Then,  with  a cry  of  self-reproach,  she  adds  : 

“And  I never  loved  him  as  I ought  to  have  loved  him.” 
She  buries  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Such  grief  as  hers  is  worse  to  bear  than  that  of  a mother 
who  has  been  ready  to  give  her  life  for  her  child. 

The  remorse  for  having  starved  her  child  for  lack  of  love 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


199 


is  almost  greater  than  it  would  have  been  had  she  starved 
him  for  lack  of  bread. 

“I  promised  Hamblin  that  I would  bring  you  home 
to-day/’  says  Lord  Claude,  looking  round  the  small  room  ; 
then  he  asks,  sternly  : 

“ Where  is  Hetty  ? ” 

“On  the  pier  with  her  friends,”  replies  the  agonized 
mother  ; “fetch  her  and  tell  her  — I cannot.” 

And  Lord  Claude,  without  a moment’s  hesitation,  seizes 
his  hat  and  starts  off  for  the  pier  to  seek  Hetty,  little 
dreaming  of  another  whom  he  will  certainly  find  there. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Ukder  the  rafters  of  the  old  pier  — rafters  thick  as  the 
trunk  of  a full-grown  tree,  worm-eaten  and  worn  by  each 
returning  tide  — Eugenie  Trevor  is  sitting  before  her  easel. 

But  she  is  not  painting. 

The  portrait  of  Hetty  Hamblin,  in  an  unfinished  condi- 
tion, is  on  the  canvas  ; but  she  is  not  regarding  it. 

Her  eyes  are  looking  through  the  network  of  huge  piles 
and  rafters,  upon  which  the  pier  is  built,  to  the  white- 
crested  waves  which  are  rolling  in  toward  the  shore. 

The  tide  is  low,  and  the  spot  upon  which  she  sits  will  not 
be  covered  for  another  hour ; but  she  is  not  thinking  of 
possible  danger,  her  mind  has  wandered  back  into  the  past, 
and  her  memory  lingers  lovingly  over  the  brief  days  of  her 
honeymoon. 

Presently  her  feelings  become  too  intense  to  be  repressed, 
they  must  find  expression  in  words ; she  closes  her  eyes, 
clasps  her  hands,  and  murmurs,  brokenly  : 

“ I would  give  my  life  freely,  gladly,  to  live  through  such 
a perfect  month  of  bliss  again  ! ” 

She  has  been  left  here  at  her  own  request  by  Hetty  and 
Laura,  and  she  has  promised  to  join  them  close  to  the  ferry 


200  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

very  shortly,  to  meet  her  brother,  who  is  to  take  her  over 
to  Southwold. 

But  she  has  forgotten  her  promise,  and  forgotten  them  ; 
her  thoughts  have  gone  back  to  the  happiness  that  was  so 
brief  as  to  be  like  a dream ; even  the  cruel  awakening  is 
obliterated  for  the  time  from  her  memory,  and  the  agonized 
entreaty  escapes  her  lips  : 

“ Laurence,  my  husband!  Come  back  to  me!  Oh, 
come  ! ” 

The  splash  and  moan  of  the  sea  answer  her,  but  Laurence 
Trevor  does  not  respond  to  the  call ; and  presently  she 
rouses  herself,  wrings  her  hands  helplessly,  breathes  a deep* 
drawn  sigh,  takes  up  the  burden  of  life  again  from  whence 
she  had  dropped  it  half-an-hour  ago,  and,  rising  slowly,  pre- 
pares to  get  out  from  under  the  pier. 

While  she  is  doing  this  she  hears  the  sound  of  footsteps 
overhead,  but  they  tell  her  nothing  ; and  it  is  not  until  she 
has  ascended  the  wooden  steps  which  lead  to  the  top  of  the 
pier  that  she  sees  a gentleman,  with  his  back  toward  her, 
walking  in  the  direction  of  the  sea. 

Something  in  his  figure,  something  in  his  gait,  and  in  the 
glitter  of  his  golden  hair,  as  the  sunlight  falls  upon  it, 
makes  her  heart  bound  with  sudden  joy. 

It  is  her  husband ; she  could  swear  it  ! 

He  has  reached  the  extreme  end  of  the  pier  ; he  is  seek- 
ing some  one. 

Her  heart  leaps  with  ecstacy.  Her  prayer  is  answered  ; 
he  is  looking  for  her,  of  course. 

All  his  neglect  is  forgotten  at  this  moment.  She  scouts 
with  indignation  the  idea  that  it  was  he  who  attempted  her 
life. 

He  has  been  to  their  home,  has  found  her  absent,  has 
followed  her,  and  she  is  ready  to  fling  herself  upon  his 
breast,  to  receive  him  back  with  all  her  old  love  and  con- 
fidence, and  never  utter  one  word  of  reproach  for  what  she 
had  believed  to  be  his  cruel  desertion. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 201 

Her  impulse  is  to  hasten  to  him  ; to  say,  ere  he  can 
speak  : 

“My  husband  — my  beloved  one  ! Leave  me  no  more,  I 
pray  you,  or  I shall  die  ! ” 

But  her  limbs  refuse  their  office. 

She  tries  to  take  a step  forward,  and  nearly  falls. 

The  things  she  holds  in  her  hands  drop  from  them,  and 
she  has  to  lean  against  the  wood-work  for  support. 

A feeling  of  faintness  comes  over  her,  but  she  will  not 
faint. 

She  has  heard  him  speak  with  contempt  of  women  who 
have  no  control  over  their  emotions,  of  those  who  weep, 
and  faint  and  fall  into  hysterics  on  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion ; and  she  struggles,  as  one  might  struggle  for  life,  to 
gain  the  mastery  over  her  own  weakness. 

And  she  succeeds. 

But  her  muscles  are  hard  set  with  the  struggle  ; her  face 
is  white  to  the  very  lips,  and  her  black  eyes  seem  to  burn 
with  the  intensity  of  feeling  which  she  fights  so  hard  to 
repress. 

The  man  whom  she  is  watching  has  turned,  and  is  coming 
toward  her. 

If  she  were  less  agitated  she  would  perceive  that,  as  he 
approaches,  he  pauses  once,  looks  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  possibly  for  some  means  of  turning  aside  and  of  avoid- 
ing the  meeting  for  which  she  is  waiting. 

But  there  are  no  steps  beyond  the  flight  at  the  top  of 
which  she  is  standing,  and  after  that  slight  pause  he  comes 
on  carelessly  and  slowly,  as  though  he  had  no  greater  inter- 
est in  life  than  to  observe  the  salt  marshes  and  the  quaint, 
rather  than  striking,  scenery  about  him. 

A cold  perspiration  bathes  Eugenie’s  face  and  head;  her 
heart  beats  wildly  with  an  undefined  dread. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  does  in  her  agitation,  and 
only  conscious  that  she  wants  air,  that  her  feelings  are 
strung  to  such  a pitch  that  they  almost  choke  her,  she  takes 


202 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


off  her  large-brimmed  hat,  and  stands  waiting,  bare-headed, 
for  him  to  address  her. 

As  he  comes  close,  she  can  scarcely  control  the  impulse 
to  spring  forward,  fling  herself  upon  his  breast,  and  sob 
out  her  joy  and  her  rapture  at  being  with  him  once  more. 

But  something  in  his  pale,  sternly-set  face  and  composed 
manner  restrain  her. 

The  glance  of  his  eye  as  he  looks  casually  at  her  freezes 
the  blood  in  her  veins. 

He  regards  her  as  a stranger;  he  is  actually  passing  her 
without  one  word,  one  glance  of  recognition,  when  her 
agony  breaks  forth  into  speech,  and  she  cries,  frantically: 

“ Laurence  ! My  husband  ! Won't  you  speak  to  me  ?” 

“I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,”  replies  Lord  Claude  Iron- 
gate,  for  it  is  he,  pausing  in  his  walk  and  regarding  the 
excited,  almost  maniacal-looking  woman  in  surprise.  “ Did 
you  speak  to  me  ? ” 

“ Speak  ! ” she  replies,  goaded  by  what  seems  to  her  like 
heartlessness.  “Yes,  I do  speak!  I call  you  husband! 
But  why  do  you  look  at  me  like  this  ? Do  you  wonder  to 
find  me  still  living  ? ” 

“ Pardon  me,  madam,  but  you  are  laboring  under  some 
extraordinary  delusion,”  he  replies,  coldly.  “I  have  not 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  you  ! ” 

“ You  don't  know  me  ? ” she  repeats,  amazed  at  his 
assertion. 

“I  have  told  you  already  that  I do  not,”  he  answers, 
sternly. 

“ Am  I not  your  wife  ? ” she  demands,  her  eyes  blazing, 
her  hands  extended,  her  whole  attitude  eloquent  with  under- 
lying menace  and  piteous  entreaty. 

But  Lord  Claude  is  cold  and  pitiless  as  a keen-edged 
sword,  and  he  says,  disdainfully : 

“No ; that  you  certainly  are  not ! ” 

She  clasps  her  head  with  both  hands,  wildly ; her  brain 
reels ; if  it  were  not  for  the  wood-work  of  the  pier  against 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


203 


which  she  leans,  she  would  fall ; and  he,  careless  of  her 
sufferings,  would  pursue  his  way,  if  she  did  not  cry  after 
him  : 

“Stop!  One  word  more.  Are  you  not  Laurence 
Trevor  ? ” 

“No,  I am  not ! ” he  answers,  savagely. 

“ But  I can  swear  to  you  ! ” she  asserts,  frantically. 

“ You  can  swear  to  anything  you  like  ! ” he  retorts,  con- 
temptuously. 

And  he  quickens  his  pace,  never  once  turning  to  look  at 
the  agonized  woman  who  tears  her  hair  and  rends  her  gar- 
ments, as  she  moans,  in  broken  accents  : 

“ I shall  go  mad  ! I shall  go  mad  ! The  burden  of  my 
life  is  greater  than  I can  bear  ! ” 

She  staggers  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  pier,  by  which 
the  river  runs  into  the  sea. 

What  her  intention  is  -she  scarcely  knows  herself,  except 
that  she  feels  : 

1 1 Mad  from  life’s  history, 

Glad  to  death’s  mystery, 

Swift  to  he  hurled  ; 

Anywhere,  anywhere,  out  of  the  world.” 

But  the  tide  runs  low,  the  mouth  of  the  river  is  silted  up 
with  sand,  and  if  she  were  now  to  throw  herself  over  this 
side  of  the  pier  she  would  fall  into  a bed  of  sand  and  mud 
rather  than  into  deep  water. 

The  effort  to  come  thus  far  and  the  mad  resolve  to  end 
her  miserable  life  have  exhausted  her. 

She  might,  had  death  and  release  seemed  possible,  have 
been  able  to  precipitate  herself  over  the  low  barrier  ; but 
the  uselessness  of  such  an  attempt  is  but  another  drop  of 
agony  to  her  overcharged  heart  and  maddened  brain,  and, 
with  a low  moan,  she  sinks  down  in  a swoon,  even  the  tor- 
ture of  suffering,  for  the  time,  suspended. 

Here  her  brother  finds  her,  some  twenty  minutes  after 
she  falls. 

He,  also,  is  greatly  excited,  though  he  knows  nothing  of 


204 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


the  scene  which  has  crushed  out  the  last  glimmer  of  hope 
from  his  sister’s  heart. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Laurence  Trevor  is  personally 
unknown  to  him,  that  he  and  the  man  who  married  his 
sister  have  never  met,  though  Laurence  had  taken  a good 
look  at  Leon  from  behind  a statue  in  one  of  the  sculpture 
galleries  of  the  British  Museum. 

But  although  Leon  has  not  known  the  man  whom  he 
considers  a monster  in  human  shape,  he  has  heard  him 
described  but  too  often. 

His  golden  hair,  his  dark  blue  eyes,  his  long,  drooping 
mustache,  his  height,  his  build,  have  all  been  pictured  to 
him  ; and  although  Eugenie  had  no  photograph  of  her  hus- 
band, she  has  painted  his  portrait  again  and  again,  until 
Leon  has  grown  tired  of  seeing  it. 

And  this  face,  that  has  become  so  familiar  to  him,  he 
believes  he  has  seen  about  ten  minutes  ago. 

So  sure  is  he  of  this  that  had  the  man  been  alone  he 
would  have  addressed  him. 

But  he  was  not  alone  ; he  was  walking  with  Hetty  Ham- 
blin, talking  to  her  earnestly,  with  a lover-like  air,  that  set 
the  proud  Mexican’s  heart  on  fire  with  jealousy. 

Hetty’s  eyes  were  downcast,  her  cheeks  were  pale,  she 
might  just  have  heard  of  some  great  calamity,  for  never 
had  he  seen  such  an  expression  of  sorrow  on  her  beautiful 
countenance. 

Even  as  he  watches  her,  she  lifts  her  eyes  ; they  are  suf- 
fused with  tears,  which  she  takes  a handkerchief  to  wipe 
away,  and  thus  she  passes  on,  without  so  much  as  a glance 
or  a bow  of  recognition. 

Under  these  circumstances  Leon  cannot  address  her  or 
her  companion  ; but  he  feels  that  he  hates  the  latter  with 
deadly  hatred,  and,  conquering  his  impulse  to  turn  and  fol- 
low the  couple,  he  hastens  to  seek  his  sister,  and  bring  her 
to  confront  this  fair-haired  stranger. 

He  does  not  perceive  her  as  he  looks  toward  the  pier,  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  205 

he  makes  his  way  by  the  sands  to  the  spot  where  Eugenie 
had  been  left. 

On  the  ground  he  finds  a white  handkerchief,  which  he 
picks  up  and  recognizes  as  hers,  and  he  wonders,  with  a 
vague  sense  of  uneasiness,  whither  she  can  have  gone. 

As  she  is  not  here,  he  must  seek  her  elsewhere,  and  he 
ascends  the  wooden  steps  and  gets  onto  the  pier. 

Probably  he  would  not  find  her  now,  if  he  did  not  stum- 
ble over  something  which  makes  him  look  down,  and  he 
finds  his  sister’s  brushes  and  canvas  and  paint-box,  and  the 
pieces  of  wood  in  a strap  which,  when  screwed  together, 
form  her  easel. 

Looking  anxiously  about  for  the  owner  of  these  things, 
he  suddenly  observes  a heap  of  black  clothing  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  disused  pier. 

To  hasten  to  the  side  of  this  shapeless  mass,  to  find  the 
face  of  the  woman  and  recognize  his  sister,  is  but  the  work 
of  a few  seconds. 

His  first  impression  on  looking  at  her  pallid,  countenance 
is  that  she  is  dead.  But  presently  he  discovers  faint  signs 
of  life,  and  he  hastens  to  some  net-houses  by  the  side  of  the 
river  and  entreats  a couple  of  strong  fisherman  to  come  to 
his  assistance. 

They  dash  water  upon  Eugenie’s  face,  and  rub  the  palms 
of  her  hands,  and  presently  she  open  her  eyes  and  looks  at 
the  faces  of  those  who  are  bending  over  her. 

But  the  face  she  seeks  is  not  there,  and  the  heavy  eye- 
lids  close  wearily.  But  whether  in  sleep  or  in  a swoon, 
those  about  her  can  scarcely  tell. 

“We  must  get  her  home,”  says  Leon  de  Maestro, 
gloomily. 

And  the  fishermen  fetch  the  sail  of  a boat  and  a couple 
of  poles  ; make  a kind  of  hammock,  and  upon  this  Eugenie 
is  taken  back  to  the  cottage  in  which  she  and  her  brother 
reside. 

Meanwhile^  a doctor  has  been  sent  for  from  Southwold, 


206 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


and,  though  she  poor  girl  has  partly  regained  consciousness, 
she  appears  to  be  in  such  a critical  condition  that  Leon 
dare  not  leave  her,  though  he  is  burning  with  impatience 
to  seek  the  man  whom  he  had  seen  walking  with  Hetty 
Hamblin,  the  man  whom  he  believes  to  be  the  destroyer  of 
his  sister's  happiness. 

But  the  doctor  comes  at  last,  and  after  awhile  he  suc- 
ceeds in  rousing  Eugenie  from  the  torpor  which  had  come 
over  her. 

It  is  a cruel  kindness,  as  Leon  realizes,  for  the  first  words 
she  utters  when  they  are  alone  reveal  to  him  some  of  the 
agony  of  mind  she  must  suffer. 

“I  have  seen  him,”  she  moans,  clasping  her  hands  in 
despair ; “ and  he  denied  himself  to  me,  repudiated  me  ! 
Said  that  he  did  not  know  me ! That  his  name  is  not 
Laurence  Trevor  ! That  — that  I am  no  wife  of  his  ! ” 

“ And  you  recognized  him  ?”  asks  her  brother,  keeping 
down  his  own  boiling  wrath.  “You  are  sure  you  knew 
him,  sure  that  you  could  not  be  mistaken  ? ” 

“ Have  I not  been  pillowed  to  his  bosom  ? Have  I not 
twined  my  fingers  in  his  golden  curls  ? Do  I not  know 
every  line  on  his  face,  every  tone  in  his  voice  ? But  no, 
no  ! I had  rather  he  had  killed  me  to-day  than  had  looked 
so  coldly  at  me  with  his  cruel  eyes,  before  he  had  spoken 
such  false  and  wicked  words  with  his  treacherous  tongue  !” 
She  covers  her  face  with  her  hands  as  she  finishes  speak- 
ing, and  for  a few  seconds  there  is  silence  between  them, 
broken  at  length  by  Leon,  asking  in  a strangely  calm  tone  : 
“Well,  and  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?” 

“What  can  I do?”  she  asks,  looking  at  him  helplessly. 
“Many  things,”  he  replies,  quietly.  “You  can  authorize 
me  to  find  him  and  bring  him  to  justice.” 

“You  would  have  no  mercy  upon  him  !”  she  says,  fear- 
fully. 

“I  would  show  him  as  much  mercy  as  he  has  shown 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


207 


you/’  lie  replies,  with  a contraction  of  the  muscles  of  the 
face  that  makes  her  close  her  eyes  and  moan  : 

“I  love  him  ! I don’t  want  to  hurt  him.  I love  him  ! ” 
“ Most  women  would  hate  him  ! ” he  replies,  disdainfully. 
“Few  would  leave  him  to  sun  himself  in  the  smiles  of 
another  woman,  to  give  her  the  love  he  has  ceased  to  feel 
for  you.” 

Her  breath  comes  quick  and  fast,  she  fairly  pants  with 
excitement ; while  her  eyes  gleam  with  the  fires  of  hate  as 
she  asks,  in  a low,  intense  tone  : 

“Another  woman?  What  mean  you?  Quick!  tell  me, 
or  I shall  go  mad  ! ” 

“This,”  says  her  brother,  looking  at  her  curiously,  “I 
met  the  man  you  have  described  to  me,  whose  face  you  have 
so  often  sketched.  He  was  walking  with  Hetty  Hamblin  ; 
he  was  whispering  words  of  love  in  her  ears,  looking  as 
though  he  could  not  turn  his  eyes  from  feeding  on  her 
beauty  ! ” 

“And  she?”  Eugenie  asks,  breathlessly. 

“She  was  listening  to  him,”  replies  Leon,  gloomily. 
“ She  knew  him  well,  this  was  not  their  first  meeting.  I 
had  turned  and  followed  them,  but  I sought  you  to  confirm 
my  suspicions,  to  come  with  me  and  confront  him,  and  I 
have  been  chained  to  your  side  from  that  hour  to  this.” 

His  sister  scarcely  heeds  him,  but  mutters,  slowly  : 

“ Hetty  Hamblin  ! It  cannot,  must  not  be  ! Fetch  her, 
Leon ! Tell  her  I want  her ; bring  her  with  you.  Lose 
no  more  time,  but  go  ! ” 

And  her  brother,  nothing  loth,  obeys. 

But  when  he  reaches  the  cottage  in  which  the  Hamblins 
have  lived  he  finds  they  are  gone  away,  and  no  one  can 
tell  him  whither. 


208 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  story  which  Lord  Claude  had  come  to  Walberswick 
to  tell  is  but  too  true  — Chris  Hamblin  is  dead. 

To  Hetty  the  calamity  is  one  of  simple  grief.  She  loved 
her  brother,  although  their  tastes  and  pursuits  were  so 
widely  different ; and  he  on  his  part,  poor  fellow,,  had 
regarded  her  with  pride  and  admiration,  as  being  so  much 
like  their  mother,  and,  therefore,  so  much  superior  to  him- 
self. 

But  it  is  Mrs.  Hamblin  who  seems  to  feel  the  blow  most 
keenly. 

Conscience  whispers  in  her  heart  that  she  did  not  love 
her  son  while  he  lived  as  she  ought  to  have  loved  him,  and 
die  reproaches  herself  extravagantly,  while  she  likewise 
feels  that  a strong  arm  upon  which  she  could  lean  in  time 
of  trouble  has  departed  from  her. 

Any  one  acquainted  with  the  Hamblin’s,  and  who  saw 
Iioav  little  Chris  was  appreciated  or  considered  by  his 
mother,  would  reasonably  wonder  at  the  sense  of  desolation 
that  has  come  over  her  with  his  death. 

But,  in  truth,  the  death  of  his  son  has  removed  a certain 
amount  of  restraint  from  Joe  Hamblin,  and,  while  he 
mourns  for  him  with  a genuine  grief,  he  does  so  in  com- 
pany of  a glass  and  a bottle,  which  are  both  refilled  as  soon 
as  they  are  empty. 

An  over-fondness  for  strong  drink  has  always  been  Joe 
Hamblin’s  besetting  sin,  but  the  influence  of  his  son  had 
made  him  put  some  restraint  upon  himself,  and  now  this  is 
withdrawn  he  throws  off  all  disguise. 

To  drown  his  grief  he  muddles  his  brain,  and,  to  the 
infinite  disgust  of  his  wife,  he  is  not  sober  even  on  the  day 
of  the  funeral. 

With  one  of  their  natural  protectors  gone,  and  the  other 
rapidly  drinking  himself  into  his  grave,  Mrs.  Hamblin 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 209 

soon  feels  it  necessary  to  take  some  decided  step  to  assure 
herself  and  her  daughter  from  impending  distitution. 

She  has  given  up  trying  to  control  her  husband ; drink 
he  will  have. 

If  left  alone  with  his  bottle  he  is  quiet  and  tractable 
enough,  but  when  this  is  taken  from  him,  and  he  is 
thwarted,  he  becomes  insanely  violent ; and  his  wife  loves 
him  too  little  to  try  to  save  him  against  his  will  and  at 
such  a cost  to  herself. 

But  as  soon  as  the  keen  edge  of  her  grief  for  the  loss  of 
her  son  has  worn  away,  and  while  the  mold  is  still  fresh 
upon  his  grave,  Mrs.  Hamblin  resolutely  faces  her  position, 
and  decides  that  something  must  be  done,  and  done 
quickly,  if  she  would  save  herself  and  her  daughter  from 
a most  unpleasant  position. 

What  this  “ something”  is  there  can  be  no  difficulty  in 
surmising. 

Promises  are  easy  things  to  make,  and  may  be  made  at 
the  time  with  the  intention  of  being  kept ; but  circum- 
stances will  soon  override  all  such  trifling  considerations  as 
being  bound  by  a promise,  and  Mrs.  Hamblin  reasons  with 
herself  in  such  a specious  way  that  she  is  soon  convinced 
she  will  be  fully  justified  in  breaking  her  promise  to  her 
daughter. 

Her  promise  was  that  Hetty  should  not  be  pressed  to 
marry  any  one  until  she  is  eighteen,  and  the  girl  will  not  be 
seventeen  until  the  tenth  of  next  month. 

But  only  Hetty's  speedy  marriage  can  save  her  mother 
and  herself  from  extreme  poverty. 

Of  this  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  but  too  sure,  and,  reluctant  as 
she  is  to  withdraw  her  promise  and  drive  her  daughter  to 
take  a step  so  repugnant  to  her  feelings,  she  can  see  no 
other  means  of  social  salvation  open  to  them. 

Hetty  is  one  of  those  few  girls  whose  beauty  does  not 
spoil  with  weeping,  otherwise  Lord  Claude  might  not  be  so 
urgent  as  he  is  for  a speedy  marriage. 


210 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


The  girl's  health  seems  to  have  been  greatly  improved  by 
her  visit  to  the  seaside  ; faint  roses  now  bloom  upon  her 
cheeks,  and  though  her  eyes  are  sometimes  heavy  with 
weeping,  they  lose  none  of  their  loveliness  by  the  pathetic 
expression  they  give  to  her  face. 

Her  mourning  makes  her  look  less  childish  and  more 
womanly. 

She  has  grown  taller,  her  form  has  become  more  fully 
developed,  and  Lord  Claude  seems  justified  by  appearances 
when  he  asserts  that  it  is  preposterous  to  say  she  is  too 
young  to  marry. 

Little  dreaming  of  the  pressure  so  soon  to  be  brought 
upon  her,  Hetty  tries  to  occupy  her  mind  with  her  paint- 
ing, as  soon  as  she  can  withdraw  it  from  thoughts  of  poor 
Chris  ; and,  feeling  that  money  may  soon  be  needed  by  her- 
self and  her  mother,  she  writes  a little  note  to  Lady  Edward 
Tavenner,  in  which  she  informs  her  of  her  return  home, 
and  expresses  her  readiness  to  paint  the  portrait  of  Sophy. 

So  the  dog's  portrait  is  begun,  her  ladyship  watching  its 
progress  critically,  watching  the  girl  who  is  painting  it  still 
more  closely. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  has  many  prejudices,  but  she 
prides  herself  upon  her  sense  of  justice,  and  Hetty  soon 
wins  her  unwilling  admiration  for  the  talent  and  industry 
which  she  brings  to  her  work. 

But  her  ladyship  does  not  express  these  feelings;  she 
keeps  Hetty  at  a distance  whenever  they  meet,  and  Gilbert's 
name  is  never  mentioned  between  them. 

Thus  matters  stand  two  months  after  their  return  from 
the  seaside.  * 

Hetty's  efforts  to  restrain  her  father  from  his  besetting 
sin  are  unavailing ; his  work  is  either  neglected  or  is  per- 
formed by  others,  and  if  Lord  Claude  were  not  a most 
indulgent  master  he  would  be  dismissed  from  his  situation, 
and  his  wife  and  daughter  be  cast  homeless  and  penniless 
upon  the  world. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


211 


It  was  late  in  September  when  Hetty  and  her  mother 
were  at  Walberswick  ; it  is  now  the  end  of  November,  and 
nature  has  changed  her  garb  from  the  rich,  ruddy  tints  of 
autumn  to  the  cold,  gray  hues  of  early  winter. 

The  gardens  of  Stanmoor  are  no  longer  clad  with  ver- 
dure or  bright  with  flowers ; and  when  Hetty,  for  the  sake 
of  fresh  air,  walks  under  the  bare  branches  of  the  leafless 
trees,  the  shrieking  and  soughing  of  the  wind  fill  her  soul 
with  strange,  unearthly  terrors. 

They  seem  to  be  moaning  over  the  days  that  are  fled  — 
over  the  bright,  sunny  days  when  she  dreamed  her  dream  of 
love,  of  that  day  in  particular  when  Gilbert  Tavenner  told 
her  he  loved  her. 

Well  may  the  wild  wind  moan ; the  dream  is  but  a 
dream  ! 

Gilbert  Tavenner  is  in  a foreign  country,  divided  from 
her  by  sea  and  land ; her  father  is  a drunkard,  hourly 
becoming  more  besotted  by  indulgence  in  his  favorite  vice  ; 
and  her  mother  is  daily  yielding  to  the  bad  influence  of  one 
who  poses  as  a benefactor  for  the  sake  of  compelling  an 
unwilling  girl  to  become  his  bride. 

It  is  after  one  of  these  solitary  strolls  upon  the  wind- 
swept paths,  and  under  the  overhanging  branches  of  the 
leafless  trees,  that  Hetty,  on  returning  to  the  house,  finds 
Lord  Claude  Irongate  in  the  sitting-room  with  her  mother. 

Her  father  but  rarely  comes  into  this  room  now  ; he  has 
a den  of  his  own  in  another  part  of  the  building,  and  there, 
when  not  pretending  to  work,  he  spends  most  of  his  time. 

Hetty’s  reception  of  his  lordship  is  courteous,  but  calm 
and#indifferent  as  usual ; she  is  indeed  vexed  to  find  him 
here,  but  she  can  say  nothing.  She  knows  that  their  fate  is 
in  his  hands,  and  struggle  as  she  has  struggled  to  free  herself 
and  hers  from  his  influence  all  her  efforts  have  been  futile. 

It  was  due  to  his  influence  over  her  mother  that  she  was 
not  allowed  to  say  good-by  to  her  friends  at  Walberswick 
before  leaving  the  place  so  suddenly ; and  it  is  equally  in 


212 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


consequence  of  his  representations  that  Hetty  has  been 
strictly  enjoined  not  to  write  to  any  of  them. 

“ They  must  never  know  that  we  hold  this  humble  posi- 
tion,” says  Mrs.  Hamblin,  proudly.  “When  you  are  mar- 
ried and  live  in  a large  house  you  will  be  able  to  invite 
them  to  come  and  see  you.  Now  it  is  impossible,  and  they 
would  not  come  if  it  were. 

Hetty  sighs,  but  obeys,  and  thus  she  knows  nothing  of 
Eugenie’s  illness  — nothing  of  Leon  de  Maestro’s  efforts  to 
find  herself. 

Poor  Hetty  is  beginning  to  feel  that  circumstances  are 
too  strong  for  her  ; she  feels  like  a tired  swimmer  whose 
limbs  are  becoming  powerless  to  stem  a strong  current  and 
upon  whom  the  conviction  is  forcing  itself  that  further 
struggle  is  useless  and  he  must  be  swept  away  by  the  stream 
or  sink  under  its  hurrying  waters. 

Her  brother’s  death  and  the  condition  of  her  father  — 
a condition  that  is  worse  than  death  — has  left  her  helpless 
in  the  hands  of  her  mother ; and,  although,  to  do  Mrs. 
Hamblin  justice,  she  would  willingly  make  any  and  every 
sacrifice  for  the  good  of  her  daughter,  she  believes  that  this 
marriage  will  be  for  her  daughter’s  welfare,  and  for  this 
reason  she  has  set  her  heart  upon  its  accomplishment. 

Lord  Claude  is  very  considerate  and  tender  this  after- 
noon ; he  has  learned  that  Hetty  takes  alarm  when  he  talks 
of  love,  and  lately  he  has  implied  rather  than  spoken  of  his 
devotion. 

But  he  has  begun  to  give  substantial  proof  of  it  in  the 
way  of  presents. 

At  first  Hetty  would  accept  nothing  more  costly  than 
flowers,  and  she  had,  it  will  be  remembered,  insisted  that 
Lord  Claude  should  not  pay  the  expenses  of  that  visit  to 
the  seaside. 

But  the  death  of  her  brother  had  taken  away  the  princi- 
pal bread-winner  ; money  was  constantly  being  required  for 
some  purpose  or  other,  and,  though  the  money  did  not 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


213 


come  into  the  girl's  own  hands,  she  knew,  from  her  moth- 
er's remarks  about  Lord  Claude's  liberality,  that  it  is  he 
who  has  paid  all  demands,  and  that  it  is  he  who  directly  or 
indirectly  supplies  the  delicacies  that  appear  on  their  table. 

Personal  presents  she  has  hitherto  declined,  but  this 
afternoon,  when  she  comes  in,  her  hair  wind-blown  in 
unusual  confusion,  and,  after  greeting  his  lordship,  seats 
herself  sadly  near  the  window,  her  mother  says,  brightly: 

“Look  here,  Hetty;  see  what  Lord  Claude  has  brought 
for  you.” 

As  she  speaks  she  holds  out  a small  case,  which  can 
contain  nothing  larger  than  a ring,  and  opens  it. 

The  flash  of  diamonds  meets  the  girl's  shrinking  gaze, 
and  she  says,  hurriedly  and  painfully: 

“ I don't  want  any  presents,  thank  you  ; I would  rather 
not  have  it.  I — I don't  like  rings.” 

“Nonsense  ! ” says  her  mother,  with  sudden  severity;  and 
she  closes  the  little  case  with  a snap  and  leaves  it  on  the 
table  by  her  own  side. 

Then  she  adds,  sharply: 

“Go  and  take  off  your  hat,  but  don't  stay  long.” 

And  Hetty  promptly  leaves  the  room;  but  when  she 
reaches  the  seclusion  of  her  own  chamber  she  flings  her 
arms  above  her  head  and  falls  upon  her  knees,  entreating 
heaven  to  save  her  from  a fate  which  seems  to  her  more 
terrible  than  death. 

When  she  returns  to  the  sitting-room  again  Lord  Claude 
is  about  to  take  his  departure,  and  she  feels  so  relieved  at 
this  that  she  stands  mute  as  a stock  or  a stone,  while  he 
clasps  his  arm  round  her  slender  waist  and  kisses  her. 

So  surprised  is  he  at  her  unusual  submission  that  he 
would  repeat  the  caress,  despite  the  presence  of  her  mother, 
if  the  living  statue  did  not  become  suddenly  animated  and 
recoil  from  him  as  though  his  touch  were  loathsome  to  her. 

To  cover  his  annoyance  Lord  Claude  laughs  and  says, 

lightly : 


214 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“Never  mind,  Hetty.  You  will  want  to  kiss  me  one 
day.” 

Then  he  goes  away,  Mrs.  Hamblin  following  him  to  the 
door. 

When  her  mother  returns  Hetty  knows  from  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face  that  she  has  come  to  some  disagreeable  reso- 
lution. She  observes,  too,  that  the  ring-case  remains  upon 
the  table,  and  she  fears  for  the  moment  that  she  will  be 
made  to  wear  the  gem  it  contains. 

Her  worst  anticipations,  however,  do  not  come  up  to  the 
dread  realitjq  for  after  turning  over  her  work-basket  for  a 
few  minutes  Mrs.  Hamblin  says,  quietly : 

“ Hetty,  Lord  Claude  and  I have  arranged  that  you  and 
he  shall  be  married  this  day  three  weeks  hence.” 

“ Married  ! ” cries  the  girl,  springing  to  her  feet  in 
amazement ; “ married,  mother  ? ” 

“Yes,  married  !”  is  the  emphatic  reply. 

“ But  your  promise,  mother  ! You  promised  me  if  I would 
receive  Lord  Claude  as  a friend  that  I should  not  be  pressed 
to  marry  him  or  any  one  until  I am  eighteen.” 

“Yes,  I know  ; and  I am  sorry  to  break  my  word,  but  I 
cannot  help  it,”  replies  the  mother,  sadly  but  resolutely. 

“When  I made  that  promise,”  she  continues,  “Chris  was 
alive,  and  your  father  had  not  become  such  a senseless 
brute  as  he  is  now  ; had  it  been  possible  to  keep  that  prom- 
ise I would  do  so,  but  it  is  not  — nothing  but  your  mar- 
riage with  Lord  Claude  can  save  us  from  the  workhouse.” 

“ I would  rather  go  to  the  workhouse  ! ” cries  Hetty, 
excitedly.  “No,  I would  ten  thousand  times  rather  die  !” 
she  moans,  clasping  her  hands,  piteously. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  turns  away  her  head. 

Her  daughter’s  agony  pains  her  greatly,  but  she  has 
steeled  herself  against  this  opposition,  and  is  resolved  to 
overcome  it. 

After  a momentary  pause,  she  says,  bitterly  : 

“You  are  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  Hetty;  you  think 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


215 


only  of  yourself,  you  don’t  care  in  the  least  what  becomes 
of  your  father  and  me.” 

“ Indeed,  mother,  you  wrong  me,”  replies  the  anguished 
girl,  clasping  her  hands  tightly,  the  better  to  restrain  her 
emotions.  “ I will  work  hard  for  you  and  father,  I will 
devote  my  life  to  serving  you  ; there  is  no  labor  that  I will 
shirk,  no  pain  or  suffering  that  I will  not  bear  ; but  I can- 
not— I will  not  marry  Lord  Claude!  I dislike  him  — I 
distrust  him  ! he  is  false  and  mean  by  nature,  and  all  his 
generosity  is  only  put  on  for  a purpose,  and  that  purpose  is 
a desplicable  one  — he  has  only  made  up  his  mind  to  win 
me  because  I will  not  be  won.” 

“And  you,  out  of  sheer  perversity,  have  tried  to  persuade 
yourself  that  you  are  in  love  with  Gilbert  Tavenner,” 
sneers  Mrs.  Hamblin,  angrily. 

Hetty  is  silent  for  a few  seconds,  her  cheeks,  which  have 
become  pale  with  excitement,  slightly  flush ; she  hesitates. 

Then,  feeling  that  she  must  speak  now  or  never,  she 
says  steadily,  though  timidly  : 

“ Mr.  Tavenner  loves  me.  As  soon  as  his  mother’s  con- 
sent is  gained  he  will  make  me  his  wife ; and  while  I am 
free,  he  will  never  marry  — he  has  told  me  so.” 

“His  mother  never  will  consent  to  such  a union,”  says 
Mrs.  Hamblin,  with  flashing  eyes  and  firmly-compressed 
lips  ; “and  if  she  did,  I would  not.” 

“You  would  refuse  ?”  asks  Hetty,  in  amazement. 

“Yes,  I would  forbad  it ! ” is  the  strange  assertion. 

“ But  why  ? ” persists  the  girl,  surprise  for  the  moment 
overcoming  every  other  feeling. 

“Lady  Edward  Tavenner  once  did  me  a great  wrong,”  is 
the  evasive  reply  ; “but  for  her  my  life  would  have  been 
widely  different.  But  enough  of  this  — no  amount  of 
talking  can  alter  my  decision.  The  sooner  you  put  all 
thought  of  Gilbert  Tavenner  out  of  your  mind  the  better 
for  your  own  comfort.  In  any  case  you  will  marry  Lord 


216 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Claude  this  day  three  weeks  ; you  can  wear  this  ring  in  the 
interval  or  not  as  you  like.” 

“ I shall  never  willingly  wear  that  or  anything  else  that 
he  can  give  me/’  Hetty  answers,  steadily  and  sadly. 

Then,  as  her  mother  makes  no  answer,  she  flings  herself 
upon  her  knees  by  her  side,  and  pleads  with  agonizing 
entreaty : 

“ Mother  have  mercy  upon  me  ! Spare  me  and  save  me  ! ” 

But  her  mother  — fearing  her  own  resolution  perhaps  — 
rises  to  her  feet,  shakes  the  clinging  hands  free  from  her 
garments,  and  says,  coldly  : 

“ When  you  express  your  willingness  to  obey  me,  I will  do 
anything  in  my  power  to  please  you  ! ” 

Then  she  walks  out  of  the  room,  and  Hetty,  overcome 
with  grief  and  despair,  falls  forward  upon  the  ground, 
moaning  in  her  grief  that  her  mether  should  thus  turn 
against  her,  should  thus  try  to  compel  her  to  become  the 
wife  of  a man  against  whom  her  very  soul  revolts. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Hetty  is  greatly  depressed  her  heart  is  torn  with  con- 
flicting emotions,  and  she  knows  not  where  to  look  for 
succor,  nor  what  step  to  take  to  save  her  from  her  impend- 
ing doom. 

Her  mother  is  more  resolute  than  she  has  ever  known  her 
to  be  before,  her  father  has  become  too  much  the  slave  of  the 
demon  alcohol  to  be  able  to  help  her,  and  the  one  appeal 
she  makes  to  him  produces  such  a fit  of  frenzy  that,  for  a 
brief  space  of  time,  Mrs.  Hamblim’s  life  is  in  danger. 

Warned  by  this  experience,  Hetty  makes  no  further  effort 
to  seek  help  from  any  one. 

She  feels  that  it  is  useless. 

Save  for  her  parents,  she  is  singularly  alone  in  the  world. 

Relatives,  she  seems  to  have  none;  and  her  mother  has 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  217 

always  discouraged  anything  like  friendship  between  her 
daughter  and  other  girls  of  her  age. 

More  than  once  during  this  miserable  time  the  tempta- 
tion comes  to  Hetty  to  disobey  her  mothers  commands,  to 
write  to  Laura  Mertonville  and  ask  her  if  she  will  help  her 
to  earn  a livelihood  if  she  secretly  leaves  her  home  to 
escape  this  hateful  marriage. 

But  the  habit  of  obedience  is  still  strong  upon  her. 

She  loves  her  mother  dearly. 

The  idea  of  putting  herself  in  open  rebellion  to  her  is 
harrowing  to  her  feelings  ; it  pains  her  even  to  see  the  cold, 
hard  expression  that  has  settled  upon  her  parent’s  face,  and 
she  feels  that  she  would  gladly  make  any  other  sacrifice  to 
bring  back  again  the  loving  smile  that  always  used  to  greet 
her. 

But  to  marry  a man  whom  she  abhors  — to  leave  her 
father  and  mother,  to  give  herself  to  him,  to  be  with  him 
always  ! 

The  thought  curdles  the  blood  in  her  veins,  rouses  a wild 
desperation  in  her  heart,  so  that  she  sometimes  cries  aloud, 
in  bitterness  : 

“Oh,  Gilbert  ! why  did  you  save  me  ? Better  that  Jem 
Blake  had  cast  me  into  the  river  than  that  I should  have 
lived  for  such  a fate  as  this  ! ” 

More  than  once  during  these  dreadful  days  the  thought 
of  suicide  presents  itself  to  her  mind. 

“ Of  what  use  is  her  life?  ” the  demon  of  Despair  whispers 
in  her  heart.  “There  is  nothing  but  infinite  pain  and 
misery  before  her.” 

But  she  does  not  yield  to  the  tempter  ; she  spends  much 
of  her  time  in  prayer,  and  her  mother,  who  watches  her 
silently,  and  who  is  often  near  when  Hetty  believes  herself 
to  be  alone,  observes  the  struggle  that  is  going  on  in  her 
daughter’s  heart,  and  feels  convinced  that,  when  the  time 
eomes,  she  will  be  passive  and  plastic  as  clay  in  her  hands. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  does  not  delight  in  her  child’s  unhap- 


218 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


piness  — she  would  give  much  to  spare  her  pain,  but  their 
desperate  condition  is  aggravated  in  her  own  mind  by 
Hetty's  assertion  that  she  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  are  only 
waiting  for  his  mother's  consent  to  their  marriage,  and  she 
is  resolutely  determined  to  make  that  consent  useless,  if  it 
is  ever  given. 

So  the  days  go  by  — long,  miserable  days,  in  which  the 
sun  does  not  shine,  the  rain  falls  in  torrents ; the  river  is 
flooded,  and  the  country  roads  and  lanes  are  so  deep  in  mud 
that  in  some  places  they  are  almost  impassable. 

Preparations  for  Hetty's  wedding  have  been  going  on  out- 
side the  house,  but  she  has  taken  no  part  in  them. 

She  has  refused  to  wear  the  diamond  ring  that  Lord 
Claude  had  left  for  her,  and  she  has  turned  coldly  away 
when  he  has  brought  other  jewelry  as  presents. 

More  than  once  she  has  meditated  making  an  appeal  to 
his  feelings,  to  his  self-pride,  to  his  sense  of  honor,  to  spare 
her  and  to  have  more  manliness  than  to  take  to  his  heart  an 
unwilling  bride. 

But  he  seems  to  apprehend  her  intention  and  to  make 
such  an  appeal  impossible. 

Lord  Claude's  path  at  this  time,  however,  is  not  one  of 
roses,  and  it  is  scarcely  wonderful  that  he  looks  pale  and 
anxious,  that  he  is  nervous  and  irritable,  and  that  what 
seem  like  mere  trifles  are  sufficient  to  annoy  and  anger  him. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  not  as  plastic  in  his  hands  as  he  would 
like  her  to  be. 

Conscious  as  she  is  of  the  worldly  advantages  which  this 
match  will  bring  to  her  daughter,  and  hard  and  resolute  as 
she  is  in  compelling  Hetty  to  accept  her  noble  bridegroom, 
she  is  not  at  all  pliable  with  regard  to  the  details  of  the 
marriage. 

His  lordship  would  like  the  ceremony  to  be  as  private  as 
possible. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  will  have  it  performed  at  the  parish  church 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  219 

at  Colneford,  at  midday,  and  will  have  no  secrecy  whatever 
about  the  matter. 

She  would  like  her  daughter  to  be  married  by  bans,  but 
• this  point  she  has  conceded,  though  she  insists  that,  on 
leaving  the  church  the  bride  shall  be  taken  to  Colnehurst 
Castle,  where  a reception  will  be  given  to  such  of  his  lord- 
ship's friends  as  choose  to  attend. 

Lady  Daphne,  however,  is  from  that  time  to  consider  the 
castle  no  longer  her  home,  Mrs.  Hamblin  being  the  first  to 
declare  that  her  ladyship  has  behaved  so  rudely  to  herself 
that  she  declines  to  meet  her. 

It  will  readily  be  understood  that  the  first  hint  of  this 
marriage  has  brought  Lord  Claude's  family  about  his  ears 
like  a swarm  of  bees. 

Lady  Daphne  has  been  exceedingly  bitter  in  her  letters  to 
her  relatives,  has  described  Hetty  as  the  worthless  daughter 
of  a designing  woman,  and  has  suggested  that  Lord  Claude 
ought  to  be  shut  up  in  a lunatic  asylum  rather  than  to  be 
allowed  to  contract  this  marriage. 

As  her  suggestion  cannot  be  carried  out,  the  laws  of  the 
land  not  admitting  an  unequal  marriage  to  be  a proof  of 
insanity,  their  eldest  brother,  the  marquis,  their  cousins  and 
uncles  all  come  and  combine  to  expostulate  with  Lord 
Claude,  and  to  point  out  to  him  the  enormity  of  his  folly. 

But  Lord  Claude  is  one  of  those  weak,  impressionable 
men,  who  can  be  desperately  obstinate  and  even  cruel  at 
times,  one  whose  worst  and  most  objectionable  qualities  are 
brought  out  by  opposition,  and  who  now,  because  Hetty  is 
unwilling  and  his  family  are  hostile  to  the  match,  is 
resolved  to  carry  it  out  at  any  cost  to  himself  or  to  others. 

Thus  matters  drift  on,  until  the  fourteenth  of  December, 
just  six  days  before  the  marriage  is  to  come  off. 

Hetty  moves  about  the  house  like  one  walking  in  her 
sleep,  so  calm  and  passionless  does  she  appear.  But  some- 
times a rapt  expression  will  come  over  the  girl's  face,  which 


15 


220 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


fills  her  mother’s  heart  with  sudden  terror,  reminding  her 
of  the  picture  of  a fair  saint  going  to  her  martyrdom. 

She  takes  no  notice  of  the  silks  and  satins  and  jewels  that 
are  brought  for  her  ; they  might  be  the  garments  intended 
to  be  worn  at  a funeral,  for  all  the  interest  she  feels  in 
them. 

The  greater  portion  of  each  day,  she  spends  at  her  easel 
painting. 

She  has  not  quite  finished  the  portrait  of  Lady  Edward 
Tavenner’s  dog  Sophy ; she  is  likewise  painting  a portrait 
of  herself  with  the  aid  of  looking-glasses,  though  for  whom 
this  is  intended  even  her  mother  does  not  know. 

But  this  occupation  enables  her  to  withdraw  herself  from 
the  preparations  that  are  going  on  around  her,  and  like- 
wise from  the  society  of  Lord  Claude  when  he  comes  to 
Stanmoor. 

Her  mother  has  recently  expostulated  with  her  for  seclud- 
ing herself  so  much  in  her  own  room,,  and  consequently  she 
is  working  at  her  easel  in  the  sitting-room  to-day  when 
Lord  Claude  enters. 

The  greeting  she  gives  him  is  chilly  and  formal ; she 
stands  cold  and  mute  as  a statue,  though  something  like  a 
shiver  passes  over  her  frame  when  he  clasps  his  arm  round 
her  waist  and  kisses  her. 

But  though  she  does  not  return,  she  does  not  seem  to 
resent  the  salute,  and  he,  taking  courage  from  the  circum- 
stance, says,  tenderly  : 

“ Hetty,  I am  afraid  that  business  of  importance  will  take 
me  from  home  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day  at  farthest.” 

“ Indeed,  my  lord  ! ” she  replies,  and  a smile  comes  over 
her  face. 

A smile  so  rare  to  it  now  that  it  seems  like  a gleam  of 
sunshine  breaking  through  wintry  clouds. 

He  reads  the  hope  that  flashes  through  her  mind,  the 
hope  that  he  is  going  to  leave  her,  and  he  knits  his  fair 
brows,  as  he  says,  steadily  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


221 


“ Yes,  and  I want  you  to  go  with  me.” 

“ You  must  know,  my  lord,  that  1 will  never  willingly  go 
anywhere  with  you  ! ” she  gathers  up  courage  to  say,  and 
her  eyes  flash  as  she  speaks. 

“ Nonsense,  my  dear,  nonsense  ! ” he  answers,  slightingly  ; 
“you  will  soon  get  over  that  little  prejudice,  and  will  be 
perfectly  miserable  when  I am  out  of  your  sight.” 

To  this  Hetty  makes  no  answer ; but  resumes  her  paint- 
ing as  though  she  had  not  heard  him. 

For  a few  seconds  his  lordship  regards  her  with  a scowl. 

He  has  wooed  many,  and  been  wooed  by  some  ; but  never 
did  he  come  near  any  woman  so  invulnerable  to  the  charms 
of  his  wealth,  his  rank,  and  his  own  fascinating  person. 

If  he  could  only  make  her  love  him,  he  would  be  almost 
satisfied  to  go  away  and  leave  her,  and  see  her  no  more. 

But  until  she  welcomes  him  with  smiles,  and  when  he 
would  leave  her  hangs  upon  his  neck  and  entreats  him  to 
stay,  he  feels  that  he  cannot  go,  that  he  must  — that  he  will 
conquer  her. 

Seeing  that  Hetty  continues  her  work,  as  though  lie  were 
no  longer  present,  Lord  Claude  seeks  Mrs.  Hamblin,  and, 
without  ceremony,  informs  her  that  he  will  have  to  leave 
home  within  the  next  forty-eight  hours,  and  that  he  wishes 
to  take  Hetty  with  him. 

“We  can  be  married  to-morrow,  or,  at  latest,  early  the 
following  morning,”  he  says,  in  the  assured  tone  of  one  who 
can  dictate  his  own  terms  ; “ then  we  shall  travel  for  some 
months,  and,  by  the  time  we  return,  all  the  gossip  and 
excitement  will  be  over,  and  we  can  settle  down  quietly.” 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  detects,  or  thinks  she  detects,  some 
shiftiness  about  the  proposed  arrangement. 

She  fancies  that  there  will  be  some  legal  flaw  in  the  mar- 
riage, or,  nearly  as  bad,  that  Lady  Daphne  has  refused  to 
leave  the  castle,  and  that  her  brother  lacks  sufficient 
strength  of  mind  to  compel  her  to  go. 

So  she  answers,  quietly  but  firmly  : 


222 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ I am  sorry  that  your  business  is  so  pressing  as  to  delay 
your  marriage,  my  lord;  but,  as  for  my  daughter  being 
married  to-morrow  or  the  next  day,  as  you  suggest,  that  is 
quite  out  of  the  question.” 

“ And  why  ? ” he  demands,  arrogantly. 

“Because  she  and  I would  both  object  to  such  a step,”  is 
the  steadily-uttered  reply.  “ Indeed,  I believe  that  Hetty 
would  refuse  to  marry  you  at  all  on  such  short  notice.” 

“Are  you  sure  that  she  will  not  make  a scene  in  any 
case  ? ” he  asks,  gloomily. 

“Yes ; I think  she  would  have  rebelled  before  if  she  were 
going  to  rebel  at  all,”  replies  the  mother,  thoughtfully. 
“ But  I do  not  like  this  unseemly  haste,  and  surely  your 
lordship  cannot  have  any  business  so  important  as  to  necessi- 
tate either  haste  or  delay.” 

Lord  Claude  bites  his  lips  and  turns  away  in  anger. 

' “ ’Tis  conscience  that  makes  cowards  of  us  all,”  and  he 
has  received  a warning  which  he  knows  it  will  be  well  to 
heed  in  good  time. 

His  impulse  is  to  fly  the  country  for  a few  months,  even 
for  a year  or  two ; but  he  cannot  and  will  not  exile  himself 
without  Hetty  as  his  companion. 

What  comfort  or  sympathy  or  consolation  he  can  exjaect 
in  her  society  it  would  be  hard  to  say,  seeing  that  she  will 
not  go  with  him  willingly  or  lovingly  ; but  he  firmly  believes 
in  his  own  power  to  charm  her  and  to  reconcile  her  with  her 
lot. 

Her  mother’s  attitude  convinces  him  that  he  cannot 
hasten  his  marriage,  however,  and  the  question  that  now 
presents  itself  to  his  mind  is,  shall  he  stay  until  after  the 
twentieth,  brave  the  danger  which  he  fears,  marry  Hetty  in 
defiance  of  her  own  repugnance,  and  in  opposition  to  his 
friends,  or  shall  he  postpone  his  marriage  and  go  away 
alone  for  awhile  ? 

He  cannot  at  once  decide  this  question. 

The  difficulty  of  his  position  is  that  he  cannot  confide  to 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


223 


any  one  the  nature  of  the  business  that  is  so  important  as  to 
necessitate  the  hastening  or  postponing  of  his  marriage. 

If  Mrs.  Hamblin  were  like  some  fashionable  mothers, 
anxious  to  see  her  daughter  well  settled  in  life,  he  might 
tell  her  half  the  truth  and  convince  her  of  the  expediency 
of  comforming  to  his  wishes. 

But  in  the  present  case  he  feels  that  this  is  not  practi- 
cable or  even  desirable,  and  the  idea  of  offering  a large  bribe 
for  compliance  is  equally  dismissed  as  unwise  and  useless. 

So  when  he  leaves  Stanmoor,  no  fresh  arrangement  has 
been  made,  and,  as  far  as  Mrs.  Hamblin  knows  to  the  con- 
trary, the  marriage  is  still  to  take  place  next  Tuesday,  the 
twentieth  of  December. 

She  says  nothing  to  her  daughter,  but  she  watches  her 
closely. 

Something  in  the  girl’s  quiet  manner  frightens  her 
mother,  she  fears  that  she  is  meditating  some  desperate 
step  ; while  Lord  Claude’s  shiftiness  in  trying  to  hasten  the 
marriage  inspires  her  with  a vague  uneasiness. 

On  this  day  Hetty  puts  the  last  finishing  touches  to 
Sophy’s  portrait. 

Unless  forbidden  to  do  so  by  her  mother,  she  means  to 
take  it  to  Hindfleet  Hall  to-morrow,  and  deliver  it  person- 
ally to  Lady  Edward  Tavenner. 

Why  she  wishes  to  see  Gilbert’s  mother  again  she  scarcely 
knows ; perhaps  she  hopes  to  hear  some  news  of  him,  or  it 
may  be  that  she  has  some  vague  hope  of  enlisting  Lady 
Edward’s  sympathy,  or  of  accepting  her  offer  to  help  her  to 
study  in  London,  supposing  it  to  be  possible  for  her  to 
escape  from  Lord  Claude. 

That  she  will  not  marry  him  before  the  twentieth  she  is 
quite  determined  ; and  she  will  not  marry  him  then  if  she 
can  help  it. 

The  question  is,  can  she  help  it  ? And  up  to  the  present 
she  has  not  been  able  to  find  one  loop-hole  for  escape. 

But  circumstances  sometimes  help  us  when  we  are  pow- 


224 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


erless  to  help  ourselves  ; and  the  next  morning,  when  Hetty 
is  thinking  of  walking  to  Hindfleet  Hall,  and  dreading  that 
her  mother  will  forbid  her  to  do  so,  a note  is  brought  from 
the  castle  by  a mounted  groom  for  Mrs.  Hamblin. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  letter  is  from  Lord  Claude,  and  contains  a brief 
farewell. 

As  the  marriage  cannot  take  place  at  once  as  he  desired, 
it  must,  he  says,  be  postponed  for  a month  ; but  he  holds 
Hetty  definitely  engaged  to  himself,  and  he  enjoins  her 
mother  to  take  care  of  her  for  him,  and,  above  all  things, 
not  to  allow  her  to  talk  to  or  hold  any  communication  with 
strangers. 

This  letter  is  a singular  one ; too  long  to  be  reproduced 
here,  and  its  effect  upon  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  most  disquiet- 
ing. 

The  caution  to  keep  Hetty  away  from  strangers  fills  her 
with  uneasiness. 

What  can  he  mean  ? Of  whom  is  he  afraid  ? And 
again  — why  has  he  gone  away  in  this  hurried,  mysterious 
manner  ? 

Remembering  how  urgent  he  has  been  to  marry  Hetty ; 
how  he  had  voluntarily  promised  to  settle  two  hundred  a 
year  upon  her  husband  and  herself,  when  he  and  she  fixed 
the  day  for  his  marriage,  she  is  more  than  puzzled  to  under- 
stand what  motive  can  be  powerful  enough  to  make  him 
postpone  the  ceremony. 

No  solution  comes  to  her,  however.  His  lordship  has  not 
given  her  any  address  to  which  she  can  write  ; he  has  only 
said  that  she  shall  hear  from  him  again,  and,  meanwhile, 
everything  is  to  go  on  as  usual  — the  engagement  is  not 
broken  off,  its  fulfillment  is  only  delayed. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  225 

The  news  comes  to  Hetty  like  a new  lease  of  life  granted 
to  her,  when  the  old  one  had  almost  expired. 

Her  glorious  eyes  grow  bright  with  delight,  her  cheeks 
flush,  she  feels  as  though  she  must  dance  and  sing  to  give 
expression  to  her  sudden  joy ; and  even  when  her  mother 
reminds  her  that  the  wedding  is  only  postponed  for  one 
month  it  does  not  sensibly  dampen  her  high  spirits. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  does  not  show  Hetty  this  letter ; 
neither  does  she  repeat  the  caution  contained  in  it  about 
not  holding  any  communication  with  strangers. 

She  considers  the  warning  superfluous  and  absurd,  and 
she  knows  that  her  daughter  is  sufficiently  sharp-sighted  to 
perceive  that  there  is  some  mystery  underlying  this  sudden 
departure,  which  she  may  hereafter  insist  upon  having 
explained. 

So  she  treats  his  lordship’s  absence  from  home  and  the 
postponement  of  the  wedding  as  a matter  of  course  ; and, 
as  much  to  avoid  troublesome  questions  as  to  show  her  con- 
fidence in  her  daughter’s  prudence,  she  relaxes  the  close 
watch  she  has  kept  upon  her,  and  allows  her  to  go  about 
pretty  much^as  usual. 

Thus  it  happens  that,  the  second  day  after  Lord  Claude’s 
departure  from  home,  Hetty  Hamblin,  carrying  Sophy’s 
portrait  in  her  hand,  sets  off  to  deliver  the  picture  to  Lady 
Edward  Tavenner,  at  Hindfieet  Hall. 

The  distance  is  a good  two  miles  from  Stanmoor ; and, 
though  the  day  is  fine,  the  roads  are  wet  and  muddy,  and 
to  avoid  getting  very  dirty  Hetty  has  to  walk  very  slowly 
and  pick  her  way  with  care. 

But  she  is  indifferent  to  this. 

The  sense  of  emancipation  — even  though  it  be  but  for  a 
time — from  a hateful  bond  is  still  fresh  upon  her,  and  she 
walks  along  with  a lightness  of  limb  and  a feeling  of  freedom 
such  as  she  has  not  experienced  since  that  day  when,  after 
being  saved  from  the  bull  by  Gilbert  Tavenner,  she  reached 
home,  and  found  her  mother  intoxicated  with  the  sugges- 


226  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

tion  from  Lord  Claude  that  he  wished  to  marry  her  dauglv 
ter. 

She  has  proceeded  about  half  the  distance  she  has  to 
traverse,  and  is  now  on  the  high-road,  when  a dog-cart  over- 
takes her,  and  some  mud  from  the  wheels  are  splashed  upon 
her  black  gown. 

It  is  but  natural  that  she  should  feel  vexed,  remembering 
where  she  is  going,  and  that  she  should  look  reproachfully 
at  the  occupants  of  the  carriage. 

But  the  next  moment  she  regrets  the  impulse,  for  one  of 
the  gentlemen  in  the  carriage  is  Leon  de  Maestro.  The 
recognition  is  mutual,  and  before  she  can  avoid  the  meet- 
ing he  has  alighted  from  his  dog-cart  and  is  coming  toward 
her. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

« 

“ Miss  Hamblix  ! ” exclaims  the  tall  Mexican,  wdth 
unconcealed  eagerness,  “this  is  a great  — an  unexpected 
pleasure  ! ” 

“ The  pleasure  of  splashing  me  with  mud  ? ” asks  Hetty, 
smiling. 

Her  instinct  warns  her  that  it  will  be  well  to  treat  Leon’s 
remarks  lightly,  to  seem  to  regard  them  as  so  much  badi- 
nage, rather  than  as  the  expression  of  his  true  feelings. 

“ The  pleasure  of  meeting  you  ! ” he  cries,  “ and  I beg 
ten  thousand  pardons  for  my  friend’s  clumsiness  in 
driving ! ” 

“One-tenth  of  those  pardons  wil  be  more  than  suffi- 
cient,” she  responds.  “But  how  is  your  sister  ? Well,  I 
hope  ? ” 

The  Mexican’s  dark  face  takes  a deeper  shade,  ere  he 
replies,  gravely: 

“ My  poor  sister  will  never  be  well  again  ; but  she  is  not 
ill  in  body  — it  is  the  mind,  the  heart,  that  is  wounded.  But 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


227 


you  should  come  and  see  her,  Miss  Hamblin ; she  would 
like  much  to  meet  you  again.” 

“ Yes,  I should  like  to  see  her,”  returns  Hetty,  nervously, 
“ but  my  mother  does  not  allow  me  to  go  anywhere.  You 
will  remember  me  kindly  to  her  — won’t  you  ? ” 

“With  infinite  pleasure,”  he  replies. 

Then  he  asks,  suddenly  : 

“ Do  you  live  near  here  ? ” 

“No,  not  very  near,”  she  answers,  evasively. 

“ May  I be  permitted  to  call  and  pay  my  respects  to  your 
mother  !”  is  his  next  question,  which  makes  her  blush  and 
hesitate,  and  say  at  length  : 

“You  must  not  think  me  rude  or  unkind  when  I say  no  ; 
but  my  mother  does  not  receive  visitors,  and  she  does  not 
like  me  to  make  new  friends.” 

“But  I am  not  a new  friend,”  he  protests,  “and  I must 
see  you  again.” 

Just  at  this  moment,  as  Leon  is  standing  in  the  road, 
talking  to  the  fair  girl,  his  burning  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
lovely  face,  the  very  stoop  of  his  shoulders  as  he  bends 
toward  her  eloquent  with  the  love  which  he  dare  not  yet 
express  — an  open  carriage,  drawn  by  a pair  of  horses,  drives 
past,  the  servants  upon  which  salute  Hetty,  the  more  defer- 
entially, perhaps,  for  the  pleasure  of  annoying  their  mistress, 
who  sits  behind  them. 

Lady  Daphne  Irongate  does  not  bow  to  her  ; she  stares 
insolently  at  the  girl,  whom  she  regards  with  a rancorous 
hatred,  and  she  makes  some  remark  to  the  gentleman 
seated  opposite,  which  impels  him  to  look  curiously  at 
Hetty  as  long  as  he  can  keep  her  in  sight. 

The  dog-cart,  which  is  waiting  a little  ahead,  shows  very 
clearly  whence  the  dark-faced  foreigner  had  come  to  the 
muddy  road  ; and  poor  Hetty’s  cheeks  burn  hotly  with  the 
consciousness  of  being  misunderstood. 

Leon  perceives  something  of  this. 

He  had  observed  the  respectful  manner  of  the  servants, 


228 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


the  cruel,  malignant  stare  of  the  youngest  of  the  two  ladies 
in  the  carriage,  and  he  is  scarcely  surprised  when  Hetty 
says,  nervously: 

“ I cannot  ask  you  to  call  and  see  us  at  present,  senor ; 
but  please  give  my  love  to  your  sister,  and  to  Miss  Merton- 
ville,  when  you  meet  her  again.  Good-by  ! ” 

“Pardon  me,”  he  replies,  his  face  changing  as  he  finds 
he  cannot  interest  her  sufficiently  in  himself  to  induce  her 
to  take  a step  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  her  mother  ; but  I 
saw  a gentleman  walking  with  you  in  Walberswick,  the  day 
you  left  so  suddenly,  and  it  is  important  to  me  that  I 
should  know  his  name.” 

“You  must  mean  Lord  Claude  Irongate,”  replies  Hetty, 
blushing  in  spite  of  herself ; “ that  was  his  sister  in  the  car- 
riage that  passed  us  just  now.” 

“ Ah  ! ” exclaims  Leon,  with  restrained  passion  ; “ he 
was  fair,  his  hair  was  the  color  of  gold,  so  was  his  long, 
drooping  mustache ; he  was  not  so  tall  as  I and  he  bent 
over  you  as  he  talked.” 

“Yes,  that  was  Lord  Claude,”  reponds  Hetty,  sadly ; “he 
came  to  tell  my  mother  and  me  about  the  death  of  my 
brother.” 

“Was  he  your  only  visitor  that  day?”  asks  Leon, 
curiously. 

“Yes,  our  only  one  ; we  returned  with  him,”  replies  the 
girl,  simply. 

“And  he  lives  near  here?”  asks  the  Mexican,  with 
seeming  carelessness. 

“Yes,  at  Colnehurst  Castle  when  he  is  at  home,”  is  the 
answer  ; “but  I must  leave  you  — good-day.” 

And  she  bows  decisively  and  walks  on,  just  as  another 
carriage  is  turning  the  corner  of  the  road  and  coming  in 
sight. 

Leon  de  Mgestro  feels  that  good  manners  alone  will  forbid 
his  forcing  his  company  upon  a girl  who  dismisses  him  with 
so  much  decision;  anC.  he  lifts  his  hat  courteously  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


229 


returns  to  the  dog-cart,  in  which  his  friend,  Di  Castro,  is 
waiting  for  him.  But  scarcely  have  they  turned  into 
another  road  than  the  latter  alights,  hides  himself  in  a 
hedge,  prepares  to  wait  for  Hetty,  and  to  follow  her. 

But  he  might  save  himself  the  trouble,  for  the  moment 
at  least ; for  when  Hetty  comes  this  way,  she  is  in  a car- 
riage, seated  opposite  to  Lady  Edward  Tavenner,  who, 
having  overtaken  and  recognized  her,  had  on  a sudden 
impulse  of  generosity  offered  her  the  seat  in  question. 

Lady  Edward  is  a woman  of  the  world,  none  know 
better  than  herself  that  a little  kindness  and  courtesy,  that 
cost  nothing  to  the  giver,  will  very  frequently  gain  more 
than  a pocket  full  of  gold. 

Hetty^s  approaching  marriage  with  Lord  Claude,  also, 
has  been  the  all-absorbing  topic  in  the  neighborhood ; and 
her  ladyship  feels  that  she  will  be  rather  glad  to  tell  her  son, 
in  her  next  letter  to  him,  how  she  picked  up  the  future 
bride  and  drove  her  home  with  her. 

As  for  poor  Hetty,  if  the  truth  be  told,  she  would  rather 
have  escaped  such  an  honor,  but  she  could  not  and  dare 
not  refuse  it ; and  thus  she  and  her  ladyship  drive  on,  until 
they  reach  Hindfleet  Hall  — and  here  another  embarrassing 
circumstance  occurs! 

Mrs.  Beevor,  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  and  Lord  Ingledene 
are  seated  in  a carriage  that  is  drawn  up  at  the  principal 
entrance,  and  are  questioning  a footman  as  to  the  time  his 
mistress  will  return,  when  Lady  Edward^s  carriage  appears 
in  sight. 

This  is  the  first  time  that  Lady  Daphne  has  called  at  the 
hall  since  the  rupture  of  her  engagement  with  Gilbert 
Tavenner,  and  Lady  Edward  is  naturally  surprised  to  see 
her  here. 

The  ostensible  excuse  for  her  presence  is  soon  apparent, 
for  she  says,  after  the  first  greeting  : 

“We  have  brought  Lord  Ingledene  to  see  you,  Lady 


230 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Edward  ; he  claims  to  have  known  you  when  he  was  quite 
a boy.” 

“ A very  big  boy  ! ” says  his  lordship,  uncovering  his 
head. 

Lady  Edward's  face  flushes. 

It  is  not  always  pleasant  for  the  friends  of  one's  youth  to 
present  themselves  unexpectedly  in  this  fashion,  but  she 
quickly  hides  her  annoyance,  and  says,  corn  teously,  as  she 
extends  her  hand  : 

“I  remember  you  now;  but  your  father  was  alive  when 
we  last  met.” 

“Yes,  poor  old  man;  he  never  got  over  Harriet's  mar- 
riage,” says  his  lordship,  sadly. 

Then  he  stares  at  Hetty,  whom  the  rest  of  his  party  had 
not  perceived,  and  mentally  concludes  that  Lord  Claude 
intends  to  wed  an  exceedingly  pretty  girl,  if  this  is  the 
object  of  his  choice. 

Lady  Daphne  follows  his  gaze  and  frowns  angrily,  but 
Hetty  pays  no  heed  to  her. 

She  is  struck  by  the  gentleman's  face ; there  is  something 
in  it  both  strange  and  familiar  to  her,  and  she  is  wondering 
where  she  can  have  seen  him  before. 

Lady  Daphne,  however,  misunderstands  the  cause  of 
Hetty's  interest  in  Lord  Ingledene,  whom  she  believes  to 
be  attracted  by  herself,  and,  with  a disdainful  glance  at  the 
girl,  she  says,  coldly: 

“We  will  call  some  other  time.  Lady  Edward  ; I see  that 
you  are  engaged  now.” 

“Not  at  all,”  is  the  answer  ; “this  young  person  can 
wait.” 

And  telling  a servant  to  take  Hetty  to  the  library,  she 
herself  leads  the  way  to  the  drawing-room,  her  visitors  fol- 
lowing her. 

“Awfully  pretty  girl  that!”  remarks  Lord  Ingledene, 
after  they  have  talked  about  old  times  for  a few  minutes 
and  the  conversation  has  begun  to  flag.  “ Doesn't  she 


FOILED  BY  LO VE.  231 

remind  you  of  somebody  whom  we  both  knew,  Lady 
Edward  ? ” 

“ No,  I cannot  say  that  she  does,”  is  the  answer  ; “ though 
I think  I had  some  impression  of  the  kind  when  we  first- 
met.” 

“ She  is  wonderfully  like  the  portrait  of  my  poor  sister  Har- 
riet, that  was  taken  about  the  time  she  was  engaged  to 
Lord  Edward,”  says  his  lordship,  with  a yawn  ; “ though  I 
was  at  college  at  that  time.  You  must  remember  her,  for  I 
have  since  heard  that  you  and  she  were  bosom  friends.” 

Lady  Edward's  face  flushes  and  she  frowns,  angrily. 

It  is  unpleasant  to  be  reminded  five-and-twenty  years 
after  their  occurrence  of  actions  of  our  own  which  we  would 
gladly  forget,  and  she  retorts,  tartly  : 

“ I don't  remember  ; she  doesn't  remind  me  of  Harriet  in 
the  least.” 

Then,  changing  her  tone,  she  asks,  carelessly  : 

“ Are  you  staying  in  this  neighborhood  ?” 

“Lord  Ingledene  is  our  guest  for  a few  days,”  Lady 
Daphne  here  volunteers,  thus  saving  him  the  necessity  of  a 
reply.  “ He  came  yesterday  to  see  Claude,  but  my  brother 
has  gone  away  from  home,  so  we  persuaded  him  to  stay  and 
amuse  us.” 

“ Lord  Claude  gone  away ! ” exclaims  Lady  Edward,  in 
surprise.  “I  thought  he  was  to  be  married  next  week  to 
— to  ” 

Then  she  pauses,  not  exactly  caring  to  mention  Hetty 
Hamblin's  name. 

But  Lady  Daphne  laughs  disdainfully,  shrugs  her  shoul- 
ders and  says : 

“ My  dear  Lady  Edward,  that  affair  will  never  come  off,  I 
feel  very  sure.  Auntie  and  I have  taken  a little  house  in 
Mayfair,  in  which  we  must  pack  ourselves  if  such  a thing 
does  happen ; but  my  belief  is  that  Claude  already  repents 
his  madness  and  wants  to  find  a way  out  of  the  scrape  he 
has  been  led  into,” 


232 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“He  will  have  no  difficulty  upon  that  score,,  I should 
think/’  remarks  Lady  Edward,  coldly.  “If  one  can  believe 
half  of  what  one  hears  it  is  the  girl  who  is  the  most  unwill- 
ing party  to  the  contract.” 

“Oh,  of  course  she  has  told  you  so,”  sneers  Lady 
Daphne. 

“She  has  told  me  nothing  about  it,”  is  the  haughty 
retort.  “For  a reason  of  my  own  I wished  to  see  her; 
I gave  her  a small  commission  to  execute,  and  she  was  on 
her  way  hither  to  deliver  the  work  when  I picked  her  up 
arid  brought  her  home  with  me.” 

“ Oh,  yes ; we  saw  her  in  the  road,  talking  to  a tall,  for- 
eign-looking man,  who  seemed  to  be  making  love  to  her. 
Didn’t  we,  my  lord  ?”  sneers  Lady  Daphne. 

And  she  turns  to  Lord  Ingledene,  who  answers,  cau- 
tiously : 

“A  gentleman  was  talking  to  her,  certainly;  but  he 
could  not  have  been  doing  so  long,  for  his  dog-cart  was 
waiting  for  him.” 

“ Suppose  he  had  been  talking  to  her  for  ten  minutes  or 
a quarter  of  an  hour,”  here  exclaims  Lady  Edward,  hotly, 
“what  harm  could  there  be  in  that  ? In  my  opinion  Hetty 
Hamblin  is  as  modest  as  she  is  pretty.” 

“ Hamblin,  Hamblin  ! ” repeats  Lord  Ingledene  ; “ where 
have  I heard  the  name  ? ” 

But  nobody  assists  his  memory. 

Lady  Daphne  has  risen  from  her  chair,  and  to  hide  her 
annoyance  at  hearing  Lady  Edward  praise  Hetty  has 
walked  to  one  of  the  windows. 

Very  bitterly  she  remembers  the  scene  that  took  place 
in  this  very  room  the  last  time  she  was  here ; then,  as 
now,  Hetty  Hamblin  was  the  subject  of  discussion,  and  if 
she  vindictively  hated  the  girl  then,  she  hates  her  now  with 
a tenfold  intensity. 

But  she  is  powerless  to  vent  her  malice  upon  Hetty,  and, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  233 

say  what  she  will  to  the  contrary,  she  knows  that  her 
brother  is  firmly  resolved  to  make  the  girl  his  wife. 

His  doing  this  will  take  her  out  of  Gilbert  Tavernier's 
way,  it  is  true,  but  by  this  time  Lady  Daphne  knows  full 
well  that  her  own  engagement  with  Lady  Edward’s  son  will 
never  again  be  renewed. 

When  she  turns  from  the  window  and  rejoins  the  others, 
she  finds  her  aunt  and  Lady  Edward  talking  about  the 
little  house  in  Mayfair,  which  is  to  be  their  home  as  soon  as 
Lord  Claude  is  married,  while  Lord  Ingledene  is  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  an  album,  too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts 
to  pay  any  heed  to  the  conversation  the  two  elderly  ladies 
are  carrying  on  near  him. 

His  lordship  is  not  a young  man  ; he  must  be  over  forty. 
He  is  handsome  in  his  way,  but  he  has  a dissipated  appear- 
ance, as  though  he  had  lived  every  day  of  his  life,  and  had 
burned  the  candle  very  freely  at  both  ends. 

The  reader  has  seen  him  before,  but  when  and  where 
it  is  unnecessary  at  present  to  specify. 

He  has  of  late  declared  his  intention  of  giving  up  his 
bachelor  habits  and  taking  to  himself  a wife,  and  Lady 
Daphne  is  seriously  wondering  whether  she  can  do  better 
than  accept  him  when  he  proposes,  as  she  thinks  he  intends 
to  do. 

She  smooths  out  the  frown  from  her  brow  as  she  comes 
to  his  side,  and  for  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour  the  conver- 
sation flows  pleasantly  enough,  Hetty  Hamblin  and  refer- 
ences to  Lady  Edward’s  earlier  days  being  alike  banished 
from  it. 

Lady  Daphne  enjoys  the  petty  triumph  she  is  having 
over  Hetty  by  keeping  her  waiting  all  this  time,  otherwise 
she  would  not  prolong  her  visit  as  she  does.  But  at  length 
her  aunt  rises  to  go,  and  she  is  obliged  to  follow  her. 

Still  she  lingers,  as  though  she  had  something  to  say  to 
Lady  Edward,  which  she  does  not  find  the  courage  to 


234 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


express,  and  when  she  takes  her  leave  her  visit  to  her 
hostess  seems  to  have  been  purposeless. 

But  when  she  and  her  companions  are  gone,  Lady 
Edward  Tavenner  sinks  upon  a chair,  her  hands  clasped 
upon  her  knees,  with  an  expression  of  pain,  sorrow  and 
conscious  humiliation  upon  her  proud,  time-worn  face. 

There  are  many  crimes  for  which  no  legal  penalty  .can  he 
exacted ; some,  too,  that  society  tacitly  consents  to  ignore. 

You  must  not  steal  a man's  purse,  neither  must  you 
obtain  goods  from  him  on  false  pretenses.  But  you  may 
worm  yourself  into  his  confidence,  separate  him  from  the 
woman  he  loves,  to  whom  he  is  engaged  to  be  married,  and 
become  his  bride  yourself,  without  incurring  any  very  severe 
censure  from  your  dear  fellow-creatures. 

And  if  the  woman  who  has  been  robbed  of  a husband 
should  afterward  make  a fiasco  of  her  life,  while  under  the 
influence  of  some  temporary  infatuation,  the  result  in  the 
opinion  of  the  world  justifies  you  in  your  theft,  because 
your  outwitted  rival  has  clearly  demonstrated  how  culpably 
ill-balanced  was  her  own  mind. 

So  far  the  dishonorable  act  is  without  punishment,  but 
men  and  women  have  consciences  whose  voices  will  some- 
times make  themselves  heard,  try  as  they  will  to  stifle  them, 
and  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  this  afternoon  would  give 
much  to  be  able  to  say  to  herself,  “I  have  been  as  true  and 
honorable  to  others  as  I should  wish  them  to  be  unto  me.” 

She  rouses  herself  at  last  from  her  unpleasant  reverie, 
and  remembers  Hetty,  whom  she  had  told  a servant  to  take 
to  the  library. 

Her  feelings  toward  the  fair  girl  are  at  this  moment  par- 
ticularly kind  and  gentle  ; she  had  observed  on  her  face 
this  afternoon  traces  of  the  mental  anguish  which  she  has 
recently  gone  through,  and,  though  her  ladyship  still  con- 
siders a union  between  Hetty  and  her  son  as  impossible  as 
ever,  her  own  love  for  Gilbert  makes  her  sympathetic 
toward  one  who  loves  him  also. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


235 


In  this  frame  of  mind  she  goes  to  the  library  to  speak  to 
Hetty,  and  apologize  for  keeping  her  waiting  so  long,  but 
when  she  enters  the  room  she  finds  it  empty. 

The  portrait  of  Sophy  stands  upon  the  writing-table 
uncovered,  but  the  girl  who  painted  it  is  gone  — gone  with- 
out being  paid  for  the  work  and  without  saying  a ,,ord  to 
any  one. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Hetty  Hamblin,  still  carrying  the  canvas  in  her  hand, 
follows  the  footman  into  the  library. 

Her  mind  is  in  a tumult  of  contending  thoughts  and  of 
conflicting  feelings. 

She  had  come  here  with  the  vague  hope  in  her  heart  that 
she  would  hear  something  of  Gilbert  Tavenner,  and  that 
his  mother  would  show  some  sympathy  for  her,  possibly 
some  sign  of  relenting. 

That  hope  is  crushed  by  the  careless  manner  in  which 
she  has  been  sent  to  the  library  to  wait  until  the  visitors 
are  gone. 

If  she  were  not  unnerved  and  made  angry  by  the  scornful 
and  hostile  glances  which  Lady  Daphne  had  bestowed  upon 
her,  she  would  realize  that  Lady  Edward  has  treated  her 
with  some  consideration,  in  sending  her  to  the  library, 
instead  of  requesting  her  to  wait  in  the  housekeeper’s  room. 

But  she  is  too  much  irritated  by  Lady  Daphne’s  scorn, 
and  by  the  evident  preference  shown  to  her,  to  notice  this 
nice  distinction. 

She  feels  that  she  had  no  business  to  bring  this  painting 
herself,  when  she  could  so  easily  have  sent  it  by  somebody 
else. 

For  Gibert’s  sake  she  ought  to  have  kept  away  — for  her 
own  sake  — yes,  even  for  Lord  Claude’s,  she  ought  not  to 
have  exposed  herself  to  such  a rebuff  as  that  under  which 
she  is  now  smarting. 

n 


236 


FOILED  B Y LOVE. 


Day  by  day  the  conviction  is  growing  upon  her  that  she 
will  be  compelled  to  marry  Lord  Claude  if  Gilbert  does  not 
come  to  her  rescue,  but  now  it  seems,  to  her  agitated  mind, 
that  no  rescue  is  meditated  — that  no  hand  will  be  extended 
to  save  her  from  her  impending  doom. 

She  looks  about  the  room  in  which  they  have  left  her. 

There  are  more  books  here  than  she  could  read  in  a life- 
time, but  there  is  an  unused  look  about  the  place,  as  though 
the  one  person  most  accustomed  to  use  it  was  absent  or 
dead,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  is  cold  and  musty, 
with  a church-yard  smell,  which  makes  her  shiver. 

For  a few  minutes  she  remains  standing  in  the  big  room, 
pale  and  irresolute. 

Through  the  window  she  can  see  that  small  flakes  of 
snow  are  falling,  and  she  remembers  that  she  has  fully  two 
miles  to  walk  before  she  can  reach  home. 

She  was  anxious  to  come  here  — she  is  now  more  anxious 
to  get  away  quickly. 

There  is  nothing  in  this  room  to  remind  her  of  Gilbert 
Tavenner;  she  cannot  picture  him  in  her  mind  as  having 
spent  much  of  his  time  here;  indeed,  he  seems  to  have  gone 
so  far  away  from  her  that,  if  she  were  to  hear  of  his  death, 
she  would  not  be  greatly  surprised,  deeply  grieved  though 
she  might  feel;  and  she  hastily  uncovers  the  portrait  of  the 
pet  dog,  places  it  upon  the  table,  and,  without  lifting  a 
book  or  examining  a picture,  she  opens  the  door  and  walks 
into  the  entrance  hall. 

As  it  happens,  there  is  no  one  there  at  the  moment,  and 
she  lets  herself  out  of  the  house,  no  one  heeding  her. 

If  any  one  of  the  people  engaged  at  the  hall  observed  a 
girl,  dressed  in  mourning,  walking  down  the  avenue  and 
through  the  lodge  gates,  which  stand  wide  open,  they  took 
no  notice  of  her,  and  Hetty  soon  reaches  the  high-road, 
without  having  been  obliged  to  speak  to  any  one. 

By  this  time,  snow  is  falling  fast;  but  she  has  an 
umbrella,  and  she  walks  on,  unmindful  of  the  storm,  the 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  237 

cold,  miserable  weather  being  more  in  unison  with  her  own 
feelings  than  would  be  sunshine  or  a cloudless  sky. 

But  she  cannot  make  much  progress  with  the  wind  blow- 
ing her  back,  and  the  snow  driving  in  her  face,  and  evening 
has  set  in  before  she  enters  the  gates  of  Stanmoor. 

Mrs.  Hamblin,  who  has  been  anxious  about  her  daughter 
for  the  past  hour,  comes  forward  to  greet  her  affectionately. 

She  has  ceased  to  trouble  herself  about  Jem  Blake,  hav- 
ing heard  that  he  has  left  the  neighborhood;  but  an  anxious 
mother  can  always  conjure  up  a dozen  specters  wherewith 
to  torment  herself,  and  Mrs.  Hamblin  had  rendered  herself 
very  wretched  before  her  daughter  makes  her  appearance. 

Fresh  clothing,  a large  fire  and  some  hot  tea  soon  revive 
Hetty  ; but  her  mother  hovers  about  her  like  one  who  can- 
not make  enough  of  the  girl  whom  she  feared  was  lost,  and 
at  length  she  says,  pleadingly  : 

“ Hetty,  I wish  you  would  promise  me  not  to  stay  out 
after  dark  like  this  again.  I did  not  like  to  keep  you  from 
going  to  Hindfleet  Hall,  because  I saw  you  had  set  your 
heart  upon  doing  so ; but  believe  me,  my  dear,  it  will  be 
much  wiser  for  you  never  to  go  there  again.” 

“ I never  want  to  go  again,”  replies  Hetty,  sadly. 

She  bows  her  head  and  clasps  her  hands  tightly,  as  she 
speaks. 

And  her  mother  divines  at  once  that  her  visit  has  been  a 
failure. 

Suddenly  her  tone  changes,  her  eyes  flash,  and  she  asks, 
with  quick  suspicion  : 

“ She  has  not  been  rude  to  you,  has  she  ? Surely,  with 
all  her  faults,  she  would  not  treat  you  with  discourtesy.” 

“No  ; oh,  no  !”  replies  Hetty,  wearily.  “Lady  Edward 
was  kind  ; she  overtook  me  and  offered  me  a seat  in  her 
carriage  ; but  Lady  Daphne,  and  her  aunt  and  a gentle- 
man were  at  the  door  when  we  reached  the  hall,  and  — and 
I was  taken  to  the  library  to  wait ; but  I grew  restless,  the 


238 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


room  was  cold,,  and  I came  away  without  a word.  I hope  it 
was  not  rude  of  me  to  do  so.  ” 

“It  doesn't  matter  !”  replies  her  mother,  impetuously; 
“ the  less  you  have  to  do  with  any  of  the  Tavenners  the 
better.  But  I won’t  see  her  if  she  comes  here,  Hetty, 
remember  that  ! You  may  make  any  excuse  you  like  ; but 
I won’t  see  her  ! ” 

“No,  mother ; I hope  she  won’t  come  again,”  replies  the 
girl.  “I  don’t  think  she  will,  though  she  was  kind  to  me 
in  her  way.”  „ 

Then  she  relapses  into  silence,  until  Mrs.  Hamblin  says, 
abruptly : 

“ Hetty,  I wish  you  would  promise  me  never  to  go  to 
Ilindfleet  Hall  again  without  my  knowledge.” 

“But  I did  not  go  without  your  knowledge  to-day, 
mother,”  objects  the  girl,  reluctant  to  give  a promise  which 
circumstances  might  tempt  her  to  break. 

“I  know  that,  dear ; but  I wish  you  would  promise  me.” 

“As  you  like,  mother,”  is  the  listless  answer.  “I  don’t 
suppose  I shall  ever  want  to  go  there  again.” 

Thus  the  promise  is  given,  neither  of  them  dreaming  of 
the  strange  circumstances  under  which  it  will  be  broken. 

The  next  morning  a mounted  groom  comes  from  Hind- 
fleet  Hall,  bringing  a letter  from  Lady  Edward  Tavenner. 

It  contains  a bank-note  for  five  pounds  for  the  portrait  of 
Sophy,  with  a few  haughty  words,  expressing  the  surprise 
and  displeasure  of  the  writer  at  the  artist  leaving  the  hall 
without  being  paid  for  her  work. 

There  is  really  nothing  offensive  in  the  letter,  except  the 
tone  in  which  it  is  written  ; but  there  is  certainly  no  indi- 
cation of  her  ladyship’s  real  anxiety  to  know  if  this  tire- 
some girl  reached  home  the  previous  evening  in  safety. 

If  the  truth  were  stated  with  absolute  plainness.  Lady 
Edward  would  not  be  sorry  to  hear  that  Hetty  had  gone 
away  to  some  distant  part  of  the  world,  whence  she  would 
never  trouble  her  again.  Nay,  more,  it  would  certainly  not 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


239 


cause  her  any  acute  sorrow  to  know  that  the  girl  was  dead; 
but,  for  all  this,  she  would  not  like  any  harm  to  come  to 
her  on  immediately  leaving  the  hall,  hence  her  reason  for 
sending  this  note  and  ordering  the  servant  to  wait  for  an 
answer. 

Hetty’s  answer  is  humble  and  respectful  enough ; she 
simply  thanks  her  ladyship  for  the  money,  and  signs  her- 
self, “Your  obedient  servant,  Hetty  Hamblin.” 

So  the  matter  seems  to  end. 

Her  ladyship  is  annoyed  by  the  brevity  of  the  answer 
and  startled  by  the  handwriting  ; but  she  gives  no  signs  of 
this,  and  thus  the  distance  between  Gilbert  Tavenner’s 
mother  and  the  girl  he  loves  is  widened,  and  Hetty  is  made 
to  feel  more  keenly  than  before  the  hopelessness  of  the 
love  which  she  still  continues  to  secretly  cherish. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  observes  her  daughter’s  despondency,  and 
is  rather  glad  of  it  than  otherwise. 

Judging  Hetty  by  the  standard  of  other  girls,  she  be- 
lieves that,  as  soon  as  she  is  convinced  that  Gilbert  Tavenner 
cannot  marry  her,  she  will  turn  to  Lord  Claude  a smiling 
face,  and  be  prepared  to  welcome  him  cordially. 

But  she  does  not  understand  her  daughter,  as  she  quickly 
realizes  wrhen  she  tries  to  interest  her  in  the  costly  silks, 
laces,  and  sparkling  gems  brought  together  for  her  vredding. 
Strangely  enough,  Hetty’s  mind  is  cast  in  a more  lofty 
mold  than  that  of  either  of  her  parents  ; and  though  a 
multitude  of  circumstances  which  she  cannot  combat  ma,y 
compel  her  assent  to  a marriage  which  her  soul  abhors,  she 
will  be  tempted  by  no  paltry  vanity  to  take  pleasure  in  the 
sacrifice. 

Thus  Christmas  passes  by. 

A white,  cold  Christmas,  in  which  there  is  much  suffering 
among  the  very  poor  and  a striking  absence  of  festivity 
among  the  very  few  rich  people  in  whom  we  are  interested. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  will  not  make  merry  in  the 
absence  of  her  son  ; and  Lady  Daphne  Irongate,  with  all 


240 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


her  assurance,  cannot  very  well  fill  Colnehurst  Castle  with 
guests  while  her  brother,  who  is  away,  may  return  at  any  * 
moment,  bringing  home  the  girl  whom  she  so  cordially 
hates  as  a bride. 

Lord  Ingledene,  whose  first  visit  had  only  extended  over 
a couple  of  days,  does  come  back  to  spend  Christmas  and  a 
few  succeeding  days  with  the  ladies  at  the  castle. 

But  he  does  not  propose,  as  Lady  Daphne  wishes  he 
would  do. 

He  is  no  longer  a very  young  man  ; he  has  a fair  estate 
and  a good  fortune,  slightly  impoverished  by  his  own  reck- 
lessness. But  he  has  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  know 
that  a sweet  and  amiable  temper  is,  of  all  things,  the  most 
desirable  qualification  in  a wife,  and  a very  little  experience 
suffices  to  convince  him  that  Lady  Daphne  is  conspicuously 
deficient  in  this  respect. 

Although  Lord  Ingledene  is  very  attentive  to  Lady 
Daphne,  he  does  not  say  anything  about  matrimony,  and 
she  sees  nothing  before  her  but  a speedy  removal  to  the 
little  house  in  Mayfair,  which  she  has  spoken  of  so  bitterly 
as  being  the  refuge  of  her  aunt  and  herself. 

She  has  steadily  omitted  to  remark  that  Lord  Claude  has 
offered  her  a house  on  the  other  side  of  Colneford,  about 
three  miles  distant,  but  which  she  has  scornfully  refused, 
considering  that  her  acceptance  would  necessitate  some 
recognition  of  his  low-born  bride. 

Mrs.  Beevor,  however,  has  expressed  her  willingness  to  go 
to  the  Laurels,  and  Lady  Daphne  has  been  very  angry  with 
her  aunt,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  when  the  latter  has 
said  that  she  thinks  Hetty  very  lovely  and  would  like  to 
know  her. 

“You  had  better  call  upon  the  girl  and  on  her  vulgar 
mother  ! ” Lady  Daphne  observes,  tartly,  at  breakfast,  on 
the  last  morning  of  Lord  Ingledene's  visit,  when  the  train- 
er's daughter  is  the  subject  of  conversation! 

Do,  Mrs.  Beevor,  and  take  me  with  you,”  says  his  lord- 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


241 


ship,  gayly.  “I  cannot  understand  how  such  a divine 
creature  can  have  a vulgar  mother,  and,  for  reasons  of  my 
own,  I should  like  to  see  her.” 

“I  don't  think  it  will  be  well  to  call  before  Claude 
returns,”  replies  Mrs.  Beevor,  cautiously;  “if  anything 
should  happen  to  prevent  the  marriage,  my  having  recog- 
nized the  girl  would  complicate  matters.” 

“ I would  give  a thousand  pounds  to  prevent  it  ! ” cries 
Lady  Daphne,  passionately,  “ and  I would  give  thrice  the 
sum  to  know  that  the  girl  was  dead  ! ” 

She  speaks  thus,  heedless  of  the  presence  of  the  butler 
and  the  new  footman,  who,  though  they  look  demure  as 
statues,  can  hear  every  word  she  says. 

Lord  Ingledene  gives  his  shoulders  a deprecatory  shrug. 

If  he  had  ever  felt  the  least  temptation  to  ask  Lady 
Daphne  to  be  his  wife,  this  venomous  remark  would  have 
saved  him ; and,  wishing  to  change  the  subject,  he  asks  if 
it  is  known  when  Lord  Claude  will  return  home. 

“Yes ; he  talks  of  coming  back  upon  the  fourteenth  of 
January,”  replies  Mrs.  Beevor,  “and  of  being  married  on 
the  twentieth.” 

“ It  was  a funny  thing,  his  going  away  at  all  if  he  means 
to  marry  the  girl,”  sneers  Lady  Daphne. 

Whereupon  Lord  Ingledene  looks  intently  into  his  coffee- 
cup,  and  makes  no  comment. 

He  is  a good  fifteen  years  older  than  Lord  Claude ; he 
has  known  him  from  childhood,  known  a few  of  the  many 
scrapes  into  which  the  latter  has  got  himself  from  time  to 
time,  and  he  can  quite  understand  that  there  are  several 
matters  that  require  settling  before  his  lordship  openly  and 
near  his  own  home  enters  into  the  bonds  of  matrimony. 

So  he  says  nothing  in  response  to  Lady  Daphne's  implied 
invitation  to  criticise  her  brother's  conduct ; and  as  soon  as 
the  meal  is  over,  he  goes  to  a side-table  and  takes  up  one  of 
the  morning  papers. 

Carelessly  he  glances  his  eyes  down  the  columns  of  births, 


242 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


marriages  and  deaths,  feeling,  for  the  moment,  convinced 
that  there  is  no  mortal  whose  name,  in  either  one  of  the 
three  lists,  can  in  any  way  affect  himself,  when  he  just 
restrains  an  exclamation  of  surprise  as  he  sees  among  the 
deaths  the  name  of  “Trevor.” 

And  this  is  what  he  reads: 

“At  sea,  December  20th,  Laurence  Trevor,  of  the  Swan’s 
Nest,  Hammersmith,  in  his  twenty-eighth  year.  South 
American  papers  please  copy.” 

Again  and  again  he  reads  over  this  advertisement ; then 
he  mutters  to  himself  thoughtfully,  as  he  turns  over  the 
newspaper: 

“ It’s  a bold  game  if  the  girl’s  story  was  true  ; a queer 
game  also.  I shall  have  to  see  the  end  of  it.” 

Meanwhile  Lady  Daphne  is  walking  in  one  of  the  con- 
servatories alone. 

She  is  very  much  annoyed  with  her  aunt,  and  likewise 
with  her  guest. 

The  first,  she  believes,  is  ready  to  go  over  to  the  enemy, 
or,  in  other  words,  to  espouse  the  cause  of  her  brother  and 
of  “that  girl,”  whom  she  hates  more  intensely  than  she 
ever  hated  mortal  being. 

Suddenly,  in  the  darkest  part  of  the  fernery,  into  which 
she  has  wandered,  a man  stands  before  her. 

Looking  up  she  recognizes  the  new  footman,  and  she 
asks,  haughtily: 

“ Why  are  you  here  ? ” 

“I  came  to  speak  to  you,  my  lady,”  is  the  mysteriously- 
uttered  response. 

“Speak  on,”  she  returns,  in  the  same  lofty  tone. 

“You  said  just  now  you  would  give  one  thousand  pounds 
to  prevent  a certain  marriage,  my  lady,  and  three  thousand 
to  know  that  the  young  person  who  is  going  to  be  married 
to  my  lord  is  dead.  Do  you  mean  it.  Lady  Daphne  ? Or 
was  it  only  talk  ? 

As  the  man  speaks  Lady  Daphne  clenches  her  hands  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


243 


looks  about  her  fearfully,  as  though  she  thinks  that  the 
very  plants  have  ears  to  hear  the  words  addressed  to  her. 

Her  heart  has  for  months  past  been  full  of  evil  wishes,  her 
malicious  thoughts  have  made  life’s  cup  unwholesome  and 
bitter  to  her ; she  has  been  a torment  to  herself,  a thorn  in 
the  flesh  of  all  who  know  or  care  for  her ; but  of  absolute, 
deliberate  wickedness  she  has  not  hitherto  been  guilty. 

Partly  because  there  is  a great  deal  of  difference  between 
wishing  ill  to  a person  and  actively  bringing  actual  disaster 
upon  him  or  her  ; and,  secondly,  because  she  has  had  no 
one  to  do  her  dirty  work  of  mischief  ; and,  single-handed, 
if  she  had  attempted  any  deed  of  violence  she  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  detected  and  would  most  probably  have 
failed. 

* “ But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  will, 

How  soon  they  find  fit  instruments  of  ill ! ” % 

And  here  is  the  instrument  ready  to  hand,  wanting  only  to 
know  whether  she  meant  what  she  said,  whether  or  not  she 
is  prepared  to  pay  the  price  she  has  recklessly  offered  for 
the  destruction  of  her  rival. 

For  a second  or  two  she  is  silent,  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  warning  her  that  it  will  be  dangerous  to  have 
any  dealings  with  this  man,  who  has  only  been  in  the  house 
a few  days. 

But  her  bitter  hostility  toward  Hetty  Hamblin  overcomes 
and  silences  the  voice  of  prudence,  and  at  length  she  answers, 
steadily  : 

“Yes,  I meant  it.” 

“Very  well,  my  lady  ; which  is  it  to  be  ? ” asks  the  man, 
quietly  ; “the  one  thousand  job  or  the  three  — stopping  the 
marriage,  I mean,  or  getting,  rid  of  the  young  woman  ? ” 

“ I cannot  tell  you  now,”  she  answers,  nervously.  “ Some- 
body is  coming  this  way.  I will  speak  to  you  this  evening, 
when  my  aunt  has  gone  to  bed.” 

The  man  touches  his  hat  and  turns  away,  just  as  Lord 
Ingledene  advances  to  speak  to  her,  and  to  say  good-by. 


244 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Hetty  has  not  mentioned  her  accidental  meeting  with 
Leon  de  Maestro  to  her  mother,  nor  indeed  to  any  one. 

In  the  first  place,  she  attaches  but  little  importance  to  it, 
supposing  that  he  was  driving  from  Colneford  to  Rickstow 
on  pleasure  or  business,  and  that  he  at  once  went  out  of  the 
neighborhood. 

As  a matter  of  conversation  she  might  speak  of  the  Mexi- 
can and  of  his  sad  and  handsome  sister ; but  she  knows  that 
the  fact  of  his  wanting  to  call  upon  them  would  distress  her 
mother,  and  therefore  she  is  silent  upon  the  subject. 

She  does  not  speak  about  Leon  to  Lord  Claude,  either, 
when  he  returns  home. 

“It  cannot  concern  him,”  she  would  say,  if  questioned 
on  the  subject,  “and  as  Lady  Daphne  saw  her  in  the  road 
there  could  be  no  secrecy  upon  the  matter.” 

So  his  lordship  does  not  hear  of  the  Mexican’s  appearance 
in  the  neighborhood,  does  not  know  that  he  has  once  been 
here,  and  though  he  looks  thinner  than  when  he  went  away 
he  appears  less  worried  and  more  satisfied  with  himself  than 
he  has  done  since  that  hurried  visit  to  Walberswick. 

Hetty,  too,  seems  more  resigned  to  her  fate.  She  feels 
that  there  is  no  release,  no  redemption  for  her. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  has  neither  written  nor  sent  to  her ; 
his  mother  conveniently  looks  another  way  on  the  few 
occasions  upon  which  they  have  recently  passed  each  other, 
and,  though  poor  Hetty’s  love  remains  unquenched,  her 
hopes  have  dwindled  to  the  very  lowest  ebb. 

Mrs.  Hamblin’s  influence  has  been  at  work  upon  her 
daughter  during  the  past  month,  so  that  the  poor  unhappy 
girl  is  quite  convinced  that  this  marriage  is  inevitable. 

Joe  Hamblin  is  now  seldom,  if  ever,  sober,  but  he  takes 
a long  time  in  drinking  himself  to  death,  so  long  that  his 
wife  sometimes  grows  impatient,  wondering  how  much 
longer  she  is  to  be  tied  to  such  a hopeless  sot. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


245 


Lord  Claude,,  however,  is  kindness  itself  to  Joe. 

He  never  reproaches  him  with  his  vice,  he  never  refuses 
him  money  ; he  would  give  him  anything  he  liked  to  drink, 
provided  it  keeps  him  quiet ; and  though  the  once  clever 
trainer  is  practically  superseded  in  the  stables  over  which  he 
had  control,  he  is  still  nominally  in  his  old  position. 

Hetty  has  done  all  that  a girl  can  do  to  save  her  father, 
and  has  failed. 

She  has  wept  and  prayed  and  struggled  to  save  herself 
from  the  power  of  Lord  Claude,  and  again  has  failed. 

How  she  must  yield  to  the  force  of  circumstances,  and 
her  mother’s  reasoning  has  had  so  much  influence  upon  her 
that  she  is  resigned  to  yield  gracefully. 

Lord  Claude  is  agreeably  surprised  at  this  change  in 
Hetty,  for  though  he  delights  in  winning  an  unwilling 
bride,  there  are  certain  limits  beyond  which  this  unwill- 
ingness becomes  objectionable. 

And  Hetty  is  too  little  intoxicated  by  the  splendid 
destiny  before  her  to  make  him  in  any  way  the  less  eager 
to  call  her  his  own. 

She  is  passive,  that  is  all,  but  she  is  very  beautiful. 

Suffering  has  given  a new  charm  to  her  beauty.  It  is  as 
the  moss  to  the  rosebud,  and  those  who  see  her  regard  her 
in  amazement,  wondering  how  one  of  Earth’s  children  can 
be  so  divinely  fair. 

Lord  Claude  had  returned  home  a few  days  earlier  than 
he  was  expected,  and  found  division  in  the  camp. 

His  aunt  and  his  sister  had  managed  to  quarrel  with  a 
little  more  determination  than  usual,  and  Lady  Daphne 
has  announced  her  intention  of  leaving  her  aunt  and  going 
to  live  with  a distant  friend. 

His  lordship  arrives  in  the  middle  of  this  discussion,  and 
he  is  agreeably  surprised  to  hear  his  aunt  say  : 

“I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will  go  to  your  friend,  Mrs. 
Blake,  my  dear,  then  I shall  be  free  to  accept  Claude’s  offer 
of  the  Laurels ; and  meanwhile  I can  entertain  his  guests 


246 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


here.  I shall  be  very  glad  to  have  Hetty  Hamblin  to  come 
and  see  me  before  the  marriage,  as  well  as  after.  ” 

Lady  Daphne’s  eyes  flash  viciously. 

If  she  has  had  any  qualms  of  conscience  about  a wicked 
and  unworthy  contract  into  which  she  has  entered  regard- 
ing her  rival,  she  dismisses  them  now,  and  after  this 
momentary  exhibition  of  anger  she  says,  sullenly  : 

“ Please  yourself,  but  you  will  live  to  be  sorry  for  having 
taken  sides  against  me.” 

Then  she  orders  her  maid  to  pack  her  trunks  and  boxes, 
and  the  day  after  Lord  Claude’s  return  Lady  Daphne 
leaves  Colneliurst  Castle,  it  may  be  for  a month,  it  may  be 
forever.” 

Lord  Claude  feels  as  though  he  had  just  woke  up  from  a 
nightmare,  and  found  the  sun  shining,  when  his  sister  has 
departed,  and  he  is  free  to  do  as  he  likes  in  his  own  house. 

Now  he  can  bring  Hetty  here,  can  show  her  the  con- 
servatories, the  beautiful  rooms  in  which  she  will  live ; and 
together  they  can  plan  their  own  way  of  life,  and  can  order 
such  changes  as  they  both  desire. 

Whatever  his  past  experience  or  failings  may  have  been, 
however  weak  at  times,  and  remorseless  at  others.  Lord 
Claude  is  very  genuinely  in  love  now. 

He  means  to  marry  Hetty,  openly  and  honorably,  and  he 
knows  the  world  well  enough  to  be  sure  that,  however 
much  his  neighbors  and  friends  may  disapprove  of  his 
choice,  they  will  soon  come  round  sufficiently  to  appreciate 
Hetty’s  gentleness  and  beauty  when  she  is  once  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  hears  of  Lady  Daphne’s  departure  from 
the  castle  with  undisguised  satisfaction.  Now  she  feels  that 
the  coast  is  clear,  that  Hetty’s  future  prosperity  is  assured, 
and  greatly  as  she  inwardly  shrinks  from  going  into  any- 
thing like  society  again,  she'  receives  Mrs.  Beevor  with 
gentle  dignity,  and  accepts  her  invitation  to  bring  her 
daughter  to  the  castle  to  dinner  on  the  following  day. 

Poor  Hetty  ! very  unlike  are  her  feelings  to  those  which 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  247 

should  animate  the  heart  of  a bride-elect  going  to  the 
palatial  home  of  her  future  bridegroom. 

She  will  wear  none  of  his  lordship's  gifts.  Her  dress  is 
of  white  surah  silk,  purchased  with  her  own  money,  made 
by  her  own  hands,  in  a hanging,  clinging,  artistic  fashion, 
which  her  mother  had  at  first  ridiculed,  though  it  now 
excites  her  admiration. 

Some  white  flowers,  which  are  sent  her  from  the  castle,  she 
feels  that  she  must  wear,  and  at  the  last  moment  her  mother 
insists  that  she  shall  put  on  Lord  Claude's  betrothal  ring. 

“We  have  no  right  to  go  to  the  castle  if  you  do  not 
wear  that  ring,”  asserts  Mrs.  Hamblin,  decisively,  “and  I 
insist  upon  it.  You  are  making  a fuss  over  trifles ; five 
days'  hence  you  will  wear  a ring  that  will  mean  much  more 
than  this  one,  and  to  make  a fuss  now  is  weak  and 
childish.” 

Hetty  shivers,  as  though  a blast  of  icy  wind  passed  over 
her  frame,  but  she  submits,  and  the  gleaming  diamonds 
seem  to  fascinate  her  like  the  eyes  of  a serpent,  and  to  take 
from  her  all  power  of  resistance. 

A carriage  comes  to  fetch  them,  and  the  footman  who  had 
asked  Lady  Daphne  that  strange  question  in  the  fernery  is 
on  the  box. 

Very  curiously  he  gazes  at  Hetty  and  her  mother,  the 
latter  attired  in  black  velvet,  and  looking,  as  he  mentally 
decides,  “every  inch  a lady.” 

He  himself  has  seen  strange  vicissitudes,  and  was  not  always 
intended  to  stand  behind  a lady's  chair,  attend  her  to  a 
carriage,  and  assist  at  a feast  of  which  he  at  the  same  time 
does  not  partake ; and  he  wonders,  as  such  men  will  wonder, 
how  such  things  as  he  sees  can  come  to  pass. 

He  does  not  wonder  at  it  so  much  when  Joe  Hamblin, 
his  handsome  face  bloated  and  his  gait  unsteady  from  his 
recent  potations,  comes  fussily  forward,  and,  with  the  jocose 
remark,  “ Make  way  for  my  lady  ! ” insists  upon  helping  his 
wife  into  the  carriage. 


248 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


If  J oe  had  paid  this  attention  to  his  daughter,  the  foot-  I 
man  would  not  have  been  so  much  surprised. 

But  he  observes  that  Mrs.  Hamblin  steps  into  the  carriage  1 
and  takes  her  seat  in  silence,  without  moving  an  unnecessary  % 
muscle,  and  without  taking  any  more  notice  of  her  husband  i 
than  if  he  were  not  there. 

To  the  bride-elect,  the  person  of  importance  from  the  .1 
footman’s  point  of  view,  Joe  sa}rs,  plaintively  and  familiarly:  1 

“I  hope  you  will  enjoy  yourself,  Hetty.  Give  me  a kiss ; J 
and,  among  all  your  fine  friends,  don’t  forget  your  old  J 
father,  child.” 

Then  he  sees  the  girl  bend  and  kiss  her  father  fondly  1 
and  whisper  something  in  his  ear,  and  involuntarily  the  : 
tears  come  to  his  own  eyes. 

Surely  would-be  murderers  should  be  made  of  sterner  3 
stuff  ! 

It  is  all  but  the  work  of  a few  minutes.  The  carriage  | 
door  is  shut,  the  footman  mounts  the  box,  the  horses  start  ] 
at  a quick  pace,  knowing  they  are  going  home,  for  it  is  ’ 
principally  his  lordship’s  race-horses  that  are  kept  at  Stan-  i 
moor,  and  in  due  time  the  carriage  reaches  the  castle  and 
Hetty  and  her  mother  alight. 

Under  other  conditions  of  feeling  both  of  them  might  j 
feel  nervous  and  shy,  but  to  Mrs.  Hamblin  it  seems  as  : 
though  she  were  going  back  to  a page  of  her  old  life  before 
her  mad  marriage  dragged  her  down  so  low  that  the  dregs  ; 
in  the  cup  of  life  were  as  gall  and  wormwood  to  her  taste,  ^ 
and  she  accepts  the  present  moment  as  being  far  more  in 
unison  with  her  true  nature  than  the  drunken  husband  and 
the  comparatively  humble  home  which  she  has  just  left. 

Hetty,  too,  though  she  observes  the  magnificence  around  ■ 
her,  is  not  greatly  impressed  by  it. 

For  Lord  Claude  comes  forward  to  take  her  hand,  links 
his  arm  in  hers  as  though  he  had  a right  to  do  so,  and,  1 
though  she  slightly  thaws  when  Mrs.  Beevor  bends  and 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  349 

kisses  her,  she  becomes  cold  and  apathetic  again  directly 
afterward. 

Lord  Claude  has  observed  the  precept  in  giving  a dinner 
party  which  advises  : 

“ Let  your  numbers  be 
Not  more  than  seven  ; 

Never  less  than  three.” 

And  there  are  exactly  seven  who  sit  down  at  the  same  table 
on  this  eventful  evening. 

There  is  the  Honorable  and  Keverend  Digby  Daincourt, 
rector  of  Colneford,  with  his  wife,  a gentle,  pleasant  little 
woman,  who  has  come  this  evening  partly  to  please  her 
husband  and  partly  to  oblige  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Beevor. 

And  there  is  a Mr.  Stuart  Smallgrove,  who  knows  the 
rectoress  well,  and  who  has  much  to  say  about  her  only 
daughter,  who  is  not  present. 

It  is  a small  party,  but  a pleasant  one,  and  Mrs.  Beevor 
treats  Hetty  with  so  much  friendly  kindness  that  she  wins 
the  girl's  heart. 

Nothing  unusual  occurs  this  evening,  except  that  Lord 
Claude  sees  his  future  bride  for  the  first  time  to  advantage. 

She  is  well-dressed,  with  suitable  surroundings,  and  she 
bears  her  part  in  the  evening's  entertainment  as  bravely  as 
any  one. 

At  dinner  she  does  not  talk  much,  but  when  the  gentle- 
men come  to  the  drawing-room  they  find  Mrs.  Hamblin 
seated  at  the  piano  and  Hetty  singing,  with  such  a compass 
of  voice  — undeveloped,  it  is  true  — and  such  a clearness  of 
enunciation  that  surprises  no  one  so  much  as  Lord  Claude, 
who  was  ignorant  that  she  possessed  such  an  accomplish- 
ment. 

“We  must  have  your  voice  trained,  my  darling,”  Lord 
Claude  says,  in  an  undertone,  as  he  bends  over  the  fair 
songstress. 

And  she  involuntarily  shivers. 


250 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


The  walls  of  fate  are  closing  in  upon  her,  and  everything 
she  does  well  but  makes  escape  the  more  impossible. 

As  for  Lord  Claude,  he  is  intoxicated  with  delight. 

Hitherto  he  has  wooed  Hetty  in  defiance  of  his  friends  — 
in  opposition  to  the  judgment  of  anybody. 

Now  his  aunt  and  the  rector,  both  of  whom  may  be 
taken  as  good  judges,  pronounce  her  to  be  perfect  — as 
charming  in  mind  and  manner  as  in  person. 

So  pleased  is  he  that  he  accompanies  Mrs.  Hamblin  and 
her  daughter  home  in  the  carriage,  and  consequently,  if  the 
footman  had  made  any  plans  for  carrying  out  his  diabolical 
plot  this  evening,  he  is  doomed  to  disappointment. 

The  little  party  has  been  a success,  however,  and  Lord 
Claude  feels  that  it  promises  well  for  his  future  happiness 
and  comfort. 

On  the  following  morning  he  comes  to  Stanmoor,  with  a 
note  for  Hetty  from  his  aunt,  asking  her  to  accompany  him 
back  to  the  castle  and  spend  the  day. 

“It  is  verv  kind  of  Mrs.  Beevor,”  says  the  girl,  mechani- 
cally re-folding  the  note  when  she  has  read  it ; “but  I am 
very  busy,  and  ” 

“ Nonsense,  child  ! ” here  interrupts  her  mother,  promptly; 
“ of  course  you  must  go.  I can  attend  to  everything  ; go 
and  get  ready  at  once.” 

And  Hetty,  with  evident  reluctance,  obeys. 

She  will  not  touch  her  trousseau  — she  is  still  in  mourning 
for  her  brother  — but  she  puts  on  a costume  of  black  cloth, 
trimmed  with  imitation  Astrakhan  fur,  with  a tall  hat  to 
match  ; and,  though  her  dress  is  not  costly,  there  is  a cer- 
tain severe  style  about  it  that  well  becomes  the  wearer. 

Lord  Claude,  who,  like  many  other  men,  has  an  intense 
dislike  to  mourning,  would  like  Hetty  to  discard  it  at  once, 
but  her  mother  has  advised  him  to  say  nothing  about  it  just 
at  present;  there  will  be  no  mourning  garments  in  the 
trousseau,  and  the  bride  will  not  be  allowed  to  take  any  of 
them  with  her  on  the  honeymoon. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


251 


Lord  Claude  and  Hetty  walk  along  the  frozen  lanes  and 
over  the  hard  road,  side  by  side,  saying  little  — thinking, 
perhaps,  the  more. 

His  lordship  feels  satisfied,  now  he  has  the  girl  with  him, 
now  he  has  cleared  away  all  obstacles  from  his  path. 

He  feels  that  the  sky  overhead  is  blue  — that  the  cup  of 
life  is  sweet ; and,  though  Hetty  is  not  as  joyous  and  ani- 
mated as  he  knows  she  can  be,  he  feels  assured  that  this  is 
only  another  joy  to  come. 

On  their  way  to  Colnehurst  Castle  they  cross  the  high- 
road, and,  looking  to  the  right.  Lord  Claude  perceives  the 
rural  postman  hurrying  along  the  road  as  though  he  would 
overtake  them. 

The  man  has,  evidently,  a letter  or  letters  for  Stanmoor, 
and  would  save  himself  the  walk  by  giving  them  to  Hetty. 

But  his  lordship  does  not  approve  of  such  an  arrange- 
ment. His  mental  comment  is  : “ The  man  is  paid  for  his 

work ; let  him  do  it.” 

And  consequently  he  says  nothing  to  his  companion,  who 
scarcely  looks  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  unconscious  that  if 
she  only  turned  her  head  and  waited  but  a few  minutes 
longer  a letter  from  Gilbert  Tavenner  would  be  handed 
to  her. 

She  does  not  look,  does  not  wait.  Blindly,  hopelessly 
she  suffers  herself  to  be  led  along  to  what  seems  to  be  her 
inevitable  destiny. 

And  the  postman,  disappointed  at  not  being  able  to 
shorten  his  walk,  trudges  on  to  Stanmoor,  grumbling  to 
himself  as  he  hands  the  letter  addressed  to  “ Miss  Hetty 
Hamblin,”  and  bearing  several  foreign  postmarks,  to  the 
girl's  mother. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  takes  the  letter  in  her  hands,  walks  into 
her  sitting-room  with  it,  examines  the  writing  and  the 
postmarks  carefully,  and  divining  intuitively  from  whom  it 
comes  she  muses,  thoughtfully  : 

“ I won't  give  this  to  Hetty ; it  will  only  upset  her.  Nor 

17 


252 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


will  I open  it.  I don't  want  to  know  what  he  says.  I 
should  feel  like  a traitress  if  I read  words  that  would  make 
my  child's  heart  glad  and  refrained  from  giving  them  to 
her.” 

Then  she  takes  the  letter,  opens  a secret  drawer  in  her 
desk  and  places  it  therein. 

There  is  but  one  other  paper  in  this  recess,  and  that  is 
the  certificate  of  her  own  marriage — a curious  document, 
wherein  the  names  of  bride  and  bridegroom  are  stated,  with 
the  relative  names  and  position  of  their  respective  fathers. 


CHAPTEK  XXX. 

Unconscious  of  the  great  happiness  she  has  just  missed 
— the  happiness  of  reading  the  first  love-letter  written  to 
her  by  Gilbert  Tavenner  — Hetty  walks  along  by  the  side  of 
Lord  Claude  until  they  reach  Colnehurst  Castle. 

Lord  Claude  is  naturally  proud  of  the  property  which 
he  inherited  from  his  mother,  and  now  he  points  out  many 
of  the  beauties  of  the  spot  to  Hetty,  talks  of  what  they  will 
do,  and  of  the  changes  they  will  make  when  they  are  mar- 
ried, asking  her  opinion  and  deferring  to  her  taste  when- 
ever he  can  induce  her  to  give  expression  to  it. 

If  Hetty  could  only  love  him  — if  she  could  only  banish 
from  her  heart  the  image  of  another,  how  contented  and 
happy  she  might  be,  with  such  brilliant  prospects  before 
her  ! 

Some  such  thoughts  as  these  pass  through  her  mind  as 
she  looks  at  the  splendid  building  waiting  to  call  her  its 
mistress,  at  the  extensive  park,  the  dark  woods,  and  at 
the  silver  stream,  which  seems  little  wider  than  a ribbon 
gleaming  in  the  sun's  rays. 

But  when  she  turns  to  her  companion,  the  very  wish  to 
love  him  dies  away. 

Why  she  knows  not,  because  physically  she  admires  him, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  253 

as  every  woman  must  do,  but  there  is  something  in  him 
that  repels  her. 

Mrs.  Beevor  receives  the  girl  warmly  ; she  has  taken 
quite  a fancy  to  Hetty,  and  Lady  Daphne’s  absence  permits 
her  to  give  expression  to  her  feelings  unchecked. 

And  Hetty  is  grateful  for  his  kindness  ; she  feels  that  his 
lordship’s  family  will  not  all  turn  against  her ; that  she 
will  have  one  at  least  to  turn  to  for  sympathy  ; and  to-day 
she  rather  vexes  Lord  Claude  by  the  way  in  which  she 
seems  to  cling  to  his  aunt  rather  than  to  himself. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  have  a long  day 
with  Hetty,  his  aunt  joining  them  occasionally  just  for  the 
sake  of  appearances  ; but  to  his  chagrin  he  finds  that  it  is 
his  own  society  that  is  only  wanted  occasionally,  and  that 
Hetty  and  his  aunt  shut  themselves  up  in  the  latter’s 
boudoir  for  a couple  of  hours  at  a time. 

Servants  have  eyes  and  ears,  if  they  say  but  little  in  the 
presence  of  their  master  or  mistress;  and  Lord  Claude’s 
discontent,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  girl  whom  he  is 
about  to  marry  shrinks  from  him,  does  not  pass  unnoticed. 

The  tall  footman  who  had  asked  that  singular  question 
of  Lady  Daphne  takes  a deep  though  silent  interest  in 
Hetty. 

He  waits  upon  her  whenever  he  can  find  an  excuse  for 
doing  so,  he  watches  her  face,  and  listens  to  the  tones  of 
her  voice;  himself  mute  as  a statue,  though  by  no  means  so 
impressionable. 

It  is  a great  disappointment  to  him,  therefore,  when, 
after  the  carriage  had  been  ordered  to  take  Hetty  home,  and 
he  had  arranged  to  go  with  it,  the  order  is  countermanded, 
and  the  fair  girl  expresses  a distinct  preference  for  walking 
instead  of  riding. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  has  insisted  that  her  daughter  shall  be 
home  soon  after  five  in  the  evening,  and  as  his  lordship  will 
accompany  her  the  presence  of  the  servants  is  dispensed 
with. 


254 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


So  again  onr  heroine  reaches  her  home  in  safety, 
sufficiently  unhappy  in  the  present  condition  of  affairs  to 
surmise  for  a moment  that  matters  can  in  any  way  be  worse 
than  they  now  are. 

Hetty  notices  this  evening  that  her  mother  is  rather 
strange  in  her  manner,  that  she  avoids  meeting  her  gaze, 
though  when  she  looks  up  suddenly  she  finds  that  her  par- 
ent is  studying  her  face  intently. 

She  thinks  that  her  mother  is  pitying  her  for  the  sacrifice 
she  is  soon  about  to  make,  and,  sad  though  she  is  at  heart, 
she  tries  to  smile  and  to  look  cheerful,  feeling  that  it  is  well 
to  make  the  best  of  a painful  situation. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  not  really  deceived  by  this  cheerfulness. 

She  had  locked  away  Gilbert  Tavenner’s  letter,  promising 
herself  that  it  should  not  again  see  the  light  of  day  until 
Hetty  and  Lord  Claude  are  safely  married;  but  now,  when 
she  sees  her  daughter,  conflicting  doubts  torment  her. 

First  of  all  she  fears  that  Hetty  will  bitterly  resent  this 
concealment  when  it  comes  to  her  knowledge,  as  in  the 
course  of  events  it  is  sure  to  come,  for  the  letter  was  regis- 
tered ; Mrs.  Hamblin  had  to  sign  her  name  for  it,  and  it 
can,  therefore,  be  traced  to  her  possession. 

As  a mother  she  has  a right  to  withhold  the  letter,  it  is 
true,  but  she  will  not  like  to  take  this  ground  when  ques- 
tioned on  the  subject  ; and,  in  addition  to  this,  she  wonders 
what  the  letter  can  contain,  and  whether  it  would  really 
disturb  Hetty  and  make  any  difference  in  her  conduct  if 
she  were  allowed  to  read  it. 

But  still  she  dares  not  give  it  to  Hetty  ; so  much  depends 
upon  this  marriage  with  Lord  Claude  that  she  feels  that  it 
must  take  place,  let  the  after-misery  be  what  it  will. 

And,  after  all,  this  letter  may  only  contain  honeyed  words 
which  a girl  who  could  afford  to  wait  might  treasure  in  her 
heart,  but  that  might  have  a most  disastrous  effect  upon 
one  who  is  on  the  point  of  marriage  with  another  man. 

“ Oh,  why  did  this  letter  come — why  did  it  come  at  this 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


255 

time  of  all  others  ? ” groans  the  poor  mother  in  her  mental 
torment.  “Was  not  my  burden  heavy  enough  to  bear  with- 
out this  additional  trouble  being  forced  upon  me  ? ” 

But  through  all  her  mental  anxiety  she  maintains  a 
cautious  silence. 

Her  husband  is  a little  more  sober  to-day  than  usual,  and 
would  like  to  be  jolly  and  genial,  but  he  soon  comes  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  wife  is  sulky ; and  though  his  daughter 
tries  to  interest  him,  he  speedily  returns  to  his  beloved 
bottle. 

This  is  the  day  after  Hetty's  second  visit  to  the  castle, 
and  on  the  third  day  from  this  her  wedding  is  to  take  place. 

Only  two  clear  days  remain  to  her,  and  Hetty  shivers  as 
she  looks  out  upon  the  snow  that  is  falling  in  small,  feathery 
flakes,  coming  down  steadily  and  silently  upon  the  earth, 
that  for  several  days  past  has  been  ice-bound. 

“Mother,”  she  says,  musingly,  “how  pleasant  it  must  be 
to  sleep  with  the  dead  flowers  under  the  snow,  and  never 
wake  again  ! ” 

“ Ridiculous  nonsense  ! ” retorts  Mrs.  Hamblin,  sharply. 
“Your  head  is  full  of  childish  fancies;  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  when  you  are  married  you  will  drive  some  of  them 
away.” 

“Perhaps  all,”  responds  the  girl,  sadly. 

But  she  says  no  more,  though  she  sits  and  watches  the 
snow,  until  the  voice  of  Lord  Claude  rouses  her  from  the 
reverie  into  which  she  has  fallen. 

His  lordship  kisses  her  before  her  mother  as  a matter  of 
course ; and  she  submits  patiently,  the  time  for  resistance 
being  past. 

Then  he  says  : 

“ I came  in  to  see  you  for  a few  minutes,  darling,  before 
I go  to  Birchhill  to  see  Reginald  Stanley,  who  has  sent  for 
me.  I shall  not  be  home  until  rather  late  this  evening,  and 
I thought  you  would  wonder  if  you  did  not  see  me  for 
the  day.” 


256 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“It  is  kind  of  you  to  be  so  considerate,  my  lord/’  Mrs. 
Hamblin  here  interposes,  feeling  sure  that  her  daughter 
will  not  say  anything  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

And  Hetty,  who  recognizes  a warning  in  the  voice, 
echoes  the  idea  as  she  says  : 

“ V ery  kind  ! ” 

His  lordship^s  visit,  however,  is  not  a long  one.  He  has 
to  drive,  in  the  dog-cart  waiting  for  him  outside,  to  Colne- 
hurst,  whence  he  can  take  train  to  Birchhill ; and  as  snow 
has  begun  to  fall  since  he  left  home  he  is  anxious  to  reach 
the  railway  station  as  soon  as  possible. 

When  he  is  gone,  a strange  silence  seems  to  settle  upon 
the  inmates  of  Stanmoor. 

Hetty  resumes  her  seat  at  the  window  again  when  dinner 
is  over,  and  watches  the  snow,  which  continues  to  fall  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  short  afternoon. 

At  length  her  eyes  become  dazzled  by  the  white  snow  ; 
she  growrs  giddy  with  watching  it  float  and  gyrate,  unwill- 
ing to  descend  upon  the  foul  earth  upon  wThich  it  will  have 
to  lie,  and  the  gray  shades  of  coming  night  are  drawing  in 
as  she  approaches  the  glowing  fire,  and  closes  her  eyes, 
which  ache  wTith  the  strain  upon  them. 

She  has  not  been  here  many  minutes,  however,  before  a 
knock  sounds  at  the  door,  and  presently  the  servant  enters 
with  a note. 

“From  the  castle,  miss,”  says  Molly,  with  great 
importance. 

And  Hetty,  in  some  surprise,  takes  the  envelope  and  tears 
it  open. 

Inside  it  is  a note,  wThich  runs  as  follows  : 

“Dear  Hetty —Come  back  in  the  carriage  I have  sent  for  yon.  I want 
to  see  yon  about  something  of  importance.  My  love  to  your  mother. 

“Yours  affectionately, 

“Geraldixe  Beevor.” 

“I  suppose  I must  go,”  says  Hetty,  handing  the  note  to 
her  mother. 


“ Miss  Hamblin1?  ” exclaims  the  Mexican,  “ this  is  a great  — an  unexpected  pleasure  ! 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


257 


And  the  latter  replies,  reluctantly  : 

“Yes,  I suppose  you  must;  but  I don’t  like  you  to  go 
out  such  an  evening  as  this.  The  roads  will  soon  become 
impassable,  and,  whatever  else  happens,  you  must  not  stay 
at  the  castle  to-night.” 

“Of  course  not,”  assents  the  girl. 

Then  she  goes  to  her  room  to  prepare  for  her  cold  drive. 

Snow  is  falling  heavily  when  Hetty  appears  at  the  house 
door,  ready  dressed  to  obey  the  request  contained  in  the 
note  which  has  just  been  brought  to  her. 

She  does  not  recognize  the  coachman,  who  is  muffled  up 
above  the  chin  and  whose  hat  is  pulled  over  his  eyes,  the 
better  to  protect  him  from  the  biting  cold  snow  and  the 
driving  blast. 

But  she  recognizes  the  footman  as  one  of  the  servants  at 
the  castle,  who  is  particularly  attentive  to  her,  and  she 
smiles  affably  as  she  says  : 

“ A cold  day,  isn’t  it  ? ” 

Then  she  takes  her  seat  in  a carriage  which,  even  at  the 
first  glance,  appears  old  and  shabby  to  come  from  such  a 
house. 

But  she  is  indifferent  to  the  appointments  of  her  convey- 
ance, and  if  she  thinks  about  the  carriage  at  all  she  will 
conclude  naturally  that  an  old  one  has  been  sent  for  her 
because  of  the  terrible  weather  and  the  heavy  condition  of 
the  roads. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  accompanies  her  daughter  to  the  door. 

She  would  like  to  come  with  her,  but  she  is  not  included 
in  the  invitation.  Lord  Claude  is  away  from  home,  and 
she  really  has  no  excuse  for  refusing  to  allow  Hetty  to  go 
without  her. 

So  she  contents  herself  with  kissing  her  daughter,  enjoin- 
ing her  to  be  back  early,  and  then  the  coachman  gives  his 
horses  their  head,  and  they  plunge  on  through  the  semi- 
darkness at  such  a pace  that  only  one  already  mounted  on 
horseback  might  follow  them. 


258 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Mrs.  Hamblin  stands  and  watches  the  carriage  for  a few 
minutes  with  apprehension,  and  feels  uneasy  at  the  rapid 
pace  at  which  it  is  going. 

But  the  blinding  snow  and  the  shades  of  evening  soon 
hide  it  from  her  gaze,  and  she  closes  the  door  with  a shiver 
and  returns  slowly  to  the  now  desolate  sitting-room. 

Singularly  solitary  does  Mrs.  Hamblin  feel  as  she  sits 
down  this  evening  alone  to  her  tea. 

A sense  of  loss,  of  impending  misery,  hangs  over  the 
deserted  room,  gleams  at  her  through  the  fiery  bars  of  the 
open  grate  and  whispers  a dirge  to  her  in  the  long,  sweeping 
sigh  of  the  moaning  wind. 

At  length  this  feeling  becomes  so  oppressive,  so  unbear- 
able, that  she  goes  to  seek  her  husband  with  the  vague  idea 
in  her  mind  of  sending  him  to  the  castle  to  fetch  their 
daughter. 

But  Joe  has  been  keeping  out  the  cold  this  afternoon  in 
his  old  fashion ; he  answers  incoherently  when  his  wife 
talks  to  him  ; he  staggers  as  she  tries  to  lead  him  across  the 
room;  then  he  sinks  upon  a seat,  lays  his  head  upon  the 
table  and  speedily  falls  into  a deep  slumber. 

And  the  agitated  mother  goes  back  to  the  sitting-room  to 
wait  for  the  return  of  her  child. 

Wearily  the  hours  pass  by,  but  Hetty  does  not  come. 

Again  and  again  Mrs.  Hamblin  goes  to  the  door  to  look 
out  upon  the  night. 

The  snow  falls,  slowly  and  monotonously,  as  though  it 
would  go  on  forever. 

She  listens  intently,  waiting  for  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels,  but  no  more  wheels  come  to  Stanmoor  this  night. 

Hour  after  hour  passess  by  but  Hetty  does  not  return, 
and,  although  the  severe  weather  may  be  the  cause  of  this, 
surely  some  messenger  might  have  been  sent  from  the  castle 
to  relieve  her  natural  anxiety. 

But  no  messenger  comes,  and  when  the  clock  strikes  the 
hour  of  midnight  the  troubled  yet  angry  mother  retires  tc 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 259 

rest,  feeling  that  it  is  useless  to  sit  up  any  longer  for  her 
daughter. 

“I  never  knew  Hetty  so  inconsiderate  before,”  she  says 
to  herself,  plaintively,  as  she  tries  to  sleep,  “ but  I suppose 
Mrs.  Beevor  insisted  that  I should  never  expect  her  home 
such  a night  as  this.” 

When  morning  dawns  the  wind  has  risen,  the  snow  has 
ceased  to  fall ; but  it  has  drifted  so  much  that  in  some 
places  the  ground  is  bare,  in  others  the  white  mass  is  piled 
up  so  high  as  to  completely  block  in  both  doors  and 
windows.  - 

“ Any  poor  creature  who  was  out  last  night  might  easily 
have  been  lost  in  a snowdrift,”  Mrs.  Hamblin  thinks, 
uneasily,  as  she  looks  through  an  upper  window  at  the 
beautiful  but  wintry  scene  before  her. 

Then  she  returns  to  the  sitting-room,  to  find  her  husband 
standing  on  the  hearth-rug,  washed,  brushed  and  shaven, 
looking  more  sober — more  in  his  right  mind  — than  she  has 
seen  him  since  the  death  of  poor  Chris,  which  he  took  to 
heart  so  sorely. 

“ Molly  tells  me  that  Hetty  didn’t  come  home  last  night,” 
he  says,  shortly.  “ Did  you  expect  her  ? ” 

“Yes,  I told  her  to  come  back  early,”  is  the  answer.  “I 
tried  to  rouse  you  to  go  and  fetch  her,  but  I could  not.” 

And,  as  she  says  this,  Mrs.  Hamblin  turns  away. 

The  time  when  she  reproached  her  husband  for  his 
besetting  sin  has  gone  by,  but  her  silence  on  the  subject 
wounds  him  more  keenly  than  would  any  taunts. 

“Fll  go  now.”  he  says,  shortly  and  resolutely.  “They'd 
no  right  to  keep  her  without  sending  you  word,  let  the 
weather  be  what  it  would.” 

Then  he  departs  on  horseback,  but  in  less  than  an  hour 
he  returns  home  with  the  startling,  bewildering  intelli- 
gence that  Hetty  is  not  at  the  castle  ; that  she  was  not 
there  at  all  on  the  previous  day,  and  that  Mrs.  Beevor  had 
not  sent  for  her. 


260 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


“And  where  is  his  lordship?”  asks  Mrs.  Hamblin,  in  a 
voice  steady  with  concentrated  anger. 

“He  will  be  here  directly  ; I didn't  wait  for  him,”  is  the 
answer.  “ I came  to  tell  you  — to  ask  what  is  next  to  be 
done.” 

But  his  wife  cannot  answer  him,  the  news  that  she  has 
just  heard  is  so  appalling  that  she  sits  like  one  stunned  by 
a sudden  blow. 


CHAPTEB  XXXI. 

Hetty  is  startled  by  the  pace  at  which  the  horses  are 
being  driven. 

Snow  falls  so  thickly  that  she  can  see  nothing  through 
the  windows ; but  at  the  rate  at  which  she  is  traveling  she 
feels  sure  that  they  must  reach  Colnehurst  Castle  very 
shortly. 

She  leans  back  in  the  shabby  carriage  and  falls  into  a 
reverie,  in  which  her  thoughts  wander  away  from  the 
present,  and  she  is  only  roused  from  her  abstraction  by  the 
sensation  of  cold  that  creeps  over  her,  and  by  the  startling 
conviction  that  they  must  have  traveled  very  much  farther 
than  her  supposed  destination. 

Looking  through  the  closed  window  on  either  side  does 
not  help  her. 

At  length  her  uneasiness  is  so  great  that  she  pulls  the 
check-string,  but  without  avail. 

Then  she  tries  to  open  one  of  the  windows  to  call  to  the 
servants;  but  in  this  she  is  baffled,  they  are  fastened 
tightly,  and  except  by  breaking  the  glass,  she  cannot  move 
them. 

Although  she  knows  the  danger  of  opening  one  of  the 
doors  while  the  carriage  is  going  at  such  a pace,  she  is  so 
terrified  that  she  makes  an  attempt  to  turn  the  handle,  and 
so  far  she  succeeds  with  both  of  the  doors ; but  for  all  this 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  261 

neither  of  them  will  open.  They  are  both  securely  looked 
on  the  outside. 

When  Hetty  realizes  that  this  is  the  case,  when  she 
understands  at  length  that  she  is  as  securely  shut  up  in  this 
carriage  as  a mouse  can  be  caught  in  a trap,  she  sinks  back 
into  one  of  the  cushioned  corners  and  covers  her  face  with 
her  hands,  while  hot  tears  of  anger,  vexation  and  terror 
spring  to  her  eyes  and  course  down  her  cheeks. 

She  can  only  suspect  one  person  of  this  outrage,  and  that 
is  Lord  Claude. 

There  is  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  it  is  he  who  has 
planned  this  infamous  step  to  get  her  in  his  power,  to  make 
his  own  terms  with  her,  and,  if  he  marries  her  at  all,  to  do 
so  under  his  own  conditions. 

She  remembers  that  something  has  always  stood  between 
them. 

That  she  has  never  believed  in  him,  that  even  when  of 
late  she  has  tried  to  love  him  a warning  voice  in  her  heart 
has  always  cried  out  against  the  would-be  intruder. 

Presently  indignation  gives  place  to  grief,  and  she  men- 
tally vows  that  if  she  again  can  gain  her  freedom  she  will 
follow  the  dictates  of  her  own  heart,  and  will  refuse  to  be 
coaxed  or  coerced  to  marry  any  man  in  whom  she  cannot 
place  absolute  trust. 

On  one  point,  however,  her  mind  is  at  rest.  She  has  no 
fear  for  her  personal  safety. 

No  one  would  go  to  the  expense  and  trouble  of  running 
away  with  her  in  this  fashion  who  wished  to  kill  her. 

But  she  is  bitterly  cold. 

There  is  no  foot-warmer  in  the  carriage ; she  has  no  trav- 
eling rug.  Darkness  has  set  in,  and  still  on  the  carriage 
goes,  silently  now  and  at  a slower  pace,  for  the  ground 
already  is  covered  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four  inches  with 
snow. 

Nothing  makes  one  feel  more  wretched  than  intense 


262 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


cold,  and,  when  to  this  cold  is  added  darkness  and  terror, 
poor  Hetty’s  condition  can  well  be  understood. 

How  long  she  has  been  in  the  carriage  she  does  not 
know,  for  a drowsiness  has  come  over  her,  and  once  or 
twice  she  has  fallen  asleep,  but  whether  for  more  than  a 
few  minutes  at  a time  she  can  never  tell. 

Suddenly  she  is  startled  by  the  sense  of  motion  ceasing. 

The  carriage  stops,  lights  flash  in  her  eyes  and  dazzle 
her,  the  door  is  opened  and  some  one  invites  her  to  descend. 

But  her  limbs  are  cramped  by  cold,  and  a cry  of  pain 
escapes  her  as  she  tries  to  move  them. 

And  the  next  instant  she  is  lifted  up  by  a pair  of  strong 
arms  and  carried  into  a house  as  though  she  were  a baby. 

A large  fire  is  burning  in  the  room  where  she  is  taken, 
and  a lamp  is  alight  on  a table,  but  the  change  of  tempera- 
ture is  too  great  for  her. 

The  sudden  transition  from  the  dark,  close  yet  bitterly 
cold  carriage  to  the  bright,  warm  room  overcomes  her  alto- 
gether, and  she  sinks  to  the  ground  in  a swoon. 

When  she  returns  to  consciousness  she  is  alone  with  a 
dark-eyed,  dark-browed  woman,  who  seems  to  regard  her 
with  dislike  rather  than  with  favor. 

“ Where  am  I ? ” she  asks,  faintly,  looking  round  the 
small  room. 

“ You  are  safe,”  is  the  laconic  answer. 

“And  my  mother?  Oh,  send  for  my  mother!”  pleads 
Hetty,  earnestly. 

The  hard  look  on  the  woman’s  face  softens  a little, 
though  she  answers,  sharply  and  with  a foreign  accent  in 
her  voice  : 

“You  can  talk  about  your  mother  to-morrow ; you  must 
eat  and  sleep  now.  See,  there  is  soup,  an  omelet,  and 
wine.” 

“I  would  rather  have  a cup  of  tea,  if  you  please,”  says 
Hetty,  faintly. 

• And  the  woman  repeats  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


263 


“ Tea  ! ” in  a disdainful  tone,  though  she  leaves  the  room, 
and  presently  returns  with  a small  teapot,  cup  and  saucer, 
a couple  of  thin  slices  of  bread  and  butter,  and  an  egg  in  its 
shell. 

The  tea  revives  Hetty,  though  she  will  not  touch  the  egg, 
and  the  woman  sits  at  a little  distance  and  watches  her 
silently. 

Watches  her  sullenly  and  jealously,  with  eyes  of  hate 
rather  than  of  kindliness  or  sympathy. 

So  marked  is  this,  that  our  heroine,  meeting  one  of  these 
glances,  and  taking  courage  from  the  warmth  of  the  room, 
and  the  refreshing  beverage  she  has  swallowed,  asks, 
gently  : 

“ Why  do  you  dislike  me  ? What  harm  have  I done  you 
that  you  look  at  me  like  this  ? ” 

But  the  woman  makes  no  answer. 

She  rises  suddenly,  gathers  up  the  tray  and  the  tea- 
things,  and  carries  them  out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door 
after  her. 

When,  some  ten  minutes  later,  she  re-opens  the  door 
noiselessly  and  looks  in,  she  sees  Hetty  kneeling  on  the 
ground,  praying  earnestly,  her  eyes  closed,  and  the  light  of 
the  lamp  falling  upon  her  pale,  beautiful  face. 

So  like  to  a kneeling  saint  is  the  fair  girl  that  the  woman, 
who  is  a devout  Catholic,  crosses  herself  piously  and  with- 
draws, resolving,  despite  the  snow,  to  go  to  confession  the 
next  morning  and  relieve  her  troubled  soul  by  telling  her 
confessor  what  she  dare  not  breathe  to  any  other  ears. 

When  she  again  returns  to  the  room  Hetty  is  seated  in 
the  one  comfortable  chair  before  the  fire,  but  her  eyes  are 
heavy  ; she  is  still  feeling  the  effect  of  her  long,  cold  drive, 
and  a drowsiness,  which  she  cannot  shake  off,  is  stealing 
over  her. 

She  rouses  herself  when  the  woman  appears,  and  asks, 
pitifully  : 

“ Why  am  1 brought  here  ? What  am  I wanted  to  do  or 


264 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


to  promise  — tell  me,  I pray  ? My  poor  mother  will  break 
her  heart  if  I do  not  return  to  her,  for  I am  all  that  she  has 
left!  ” 

Ask  me  no  questions  to-night,”  replies  the  woman, 
shortly.  “ You  are  safe  while  you  are  with  me  ; be  satisfied 
to  know  that.” 

Then  she  lifts  up  the  top  of  the  ottoman  couch,  takes 
out  sheets  and  blankets,  and,  haying  closed  it  again,  prepares 
a bed  on  the  cushioned  seat. 

Hetty  watches  her,  but  makes  no  comment.  She  is  not 
sorry  to  find  that  she  is  to  sleep  here  in  the  warm  room, 
where  a large  fire  is  still  burning. 

The  woman’s  assurance,  also,  that  she  is  safe  comforts 
her,  for  there  is  something  about  this  strange,  foreign-look- 
ing creature  that  inspires  confidence  as  to  her  veracity, 
though  one  might  very  easily  believe  that,  if  her  jealousy  is 
roused,  she  would  not  hesitate  to  use  the  dagger  or  poisoned 
bowl  to  rid  her  of  a rival. 

Wearily,  like  a tired  child,  Hetty  Hamblin  sleeps  through 
that  long,  dark  night. 

Many  times  the  young  woman  who  has  charge  of  her 
steals  in  on  tip-toe,  and  gazes  at  her  sweet  face  with  a mix- 
ture of  admiration  and  jealousy  hard  to  reconcile. 

Once  she  brings  in  a woman,  much  older  than  herself, 
but  like  her  in  all  but  youth,  and  the  two  stand  side  by  side 
and  gaze  in  wonder  at  the  sleeping  girl,  who  is  blissfully 
unconscious  of  their  presence. 

When  Hetty  opens  her  eyes  the  next  morning,  the  fire  is 
burning  in  the  grate  with  a crackling  sound,  as  though  it 
had  just  been  lighted,  and  the  young  woman  who  had 
waited  upon  her  the  night  before  is  standing  by  her  side, 
with  a roll  and  a cup  of  strong  coffee  on  a tray  in  her 
hands. 

Her  face  wears  a softer  expression  than  it  did  the  night 
before,  and  she  says,  gently  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


265 


“You  have  slept  well.  Take  this,  then  dress  yourself  ; 
you  may  have  a visitor  shortly.” 

For  the  first  few  seconds  Hetty  has  not  realized  where  she 
is,  nor  what  has  happened.  But  as  the  memory  of  that 
cold,  dark  ride  comes  back  to  her  she  buries  her  face  in 
her  hands,  and  her  slender  frame  is  convulsed  with  sobs. 

“ There,  don't  weep  ! ” says  the  woman,  soothingly. 
“ There  is  nothing  for  you  to  weep  about.  No  harm  shall 
come  to  you  while  you  are  here,  and  you  shall  not  be  taken 
away  but  of  your  own  free  will.” 

“ Thank  you,  thank  you  for  that  promise  ! ” sobs  the  girl, 
gratefully. 

Then  she  dries  her  eyes  and  proceeds  to  follow  the 
woman's  instructions. 

Meanwhile  the  woman  bustles  about  the  room,  dusting 
and  putting  things  in  their  places. 

Presently  she  says : 

“ My  name  is  Nita ; 'tis  well  to  know  it.  And  yours  is  ? ” 
She  pauses  for  a reply,  and  our  heroine  answers,  simply  : 
“Mine  is  Hetty  Hamblin.” 

“Ah!  a pretty  name,”  she  says,  with  an  unconscious 
sigh. 

But  her  face  changes  suddenly,  as  a peculiar  knock  sounds 
upon  the  front  door,  and  she  exclaims,  hurriedly  : 

“ Here  he  is  and  we  are  not  ready  for  him.” 

Then  she  leaves  the  room,  and  a few  minutes  afterward 
returns,  ushering  in  a man  whom  Hetty  looks  at  with 
astonishment,  believing  she  has  never  seen  his  face  before. 
It  is  not  until  he  says,  with  a slightly  foreign  accent : 

“ Good-morning,  Miss  Hamblin  ! ” that  his  voice  seems 
slightly  familiar  to  her. 

But  still  she  does  not  know  him,  and  she  answers  with  as 
much  fear  as  dignity  : 

“ Good-morning  ; but  I don't  know  you  ! From  whom 
do  you  come  ? ” 

“I  came  on  my  own  account,”  he  replies,  blandly.  “I 

18 


266 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


had  the  honor  of  bringing  you  here  last  night.  Do  yon 
recognize  me  now  ? ” 

“Yon  surely  cannot  be  the  footman  from  Colnehurst 
Castle  who  brought  me  the  note  yesterday  ? ” she  answers, 
incredulously. 

“But  I am,”  he  replies,  with  a laugh  at  his  own  clever- 
ness. “ The  make-up  was  wonderfully  good,  was  it  not ! ” 
he  asks,  with  familiar  confidence. 

Hetty  does  not  smile  in  return,  but  she  looks  at  the 
stranger's  face,  steadily,  finding  it  still  hard  to  believe  that 
this  foreign-looking  man,  who  looks  something  between 
an  artist  and  a bandit,  was  ever  the  tall  footman,  with  the 
powdered  hair,  plush  breeches,  and  silk  stockings,  who  had 
stood  behind  her  chair,  and  had  anticipated  her  slightest 
wish  as  only  a well- trained  servant  can  do. 

Still  it  is  possible  that  the  man's  story  is  true. 

She  remembers  that  he  had  large,  dark  eyes  ; bold,  hand- 
some features,  and  that  he  looked  superior  to  his  fellows. 

At  any  rate,  whether  his  assertion  be  true  or  false,  it  is 
nothing  to  her,  and  she  says,  coldly  and  with  unconscious 
haughtiness : 

“ I am  waiting  to  hear  why  you  assumed  that  disguise, 
and  why  I was  trapped  and  brought  here  last  night.” 

He  has  been  standing  up  to  this  point;  now  he  throws 
himself  into  a chair  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table, 
remarking : 

“As  I am  no  longer  a servant,  you  will  not  object  to  my 
sitting  in  your  presence.” 

Hetty  makes  no  answer. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have  been  cour- 
teous at  once;  but  she  feels  sure  that  his  easy  tone  of 
familiarity  covers  some  snare,  and  she  waits  coldly,  but 
patiently,  to  hear  what  he  has  to  tell  her. 

With  all  the  fellow's  natural  self-assertion,  her  manner 
disconcerts  him,  and  he  says,  with  considerably  less  bravado 
in  tone  and  manner  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  267 

“My  disguise  had  nothing  to  do  with  you.  I was  sent  to 
Colnehurst  Castle  to  learn  something  about  its  master,  and 
it  was  while  I was  there  that  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  offered 
to  give  a large  sum  of  money  to  prevent  your  marriage  with 
her  brother  from  taking  place.  ” 

“ Lady  Daphne  ! ” echoes  Hetty,  in  amazement. 

“Yes,  her  ladyship  objected  to  you  as  a sister-in-law,”  he 
continues;  “and  together  she  and  I arranged  this  little 
trip,  which  I hope  one  day  you  will  cease  to  regret.” 

“ Then  it  is  Lady  Daphne,  and  not  Lord  Claude,  who  has 
paid  you  to  bring  me  away  from  my  mother  in  this  cruel 
manner  ? ” asks  the  girl,  scarcely  able  to  credit  what  he  has 
told  her. 

“ Of  course  ! ” replies  the  man,  with  a laugh.  Then 
he  adds,  curiously  : “ Why  should  Lord  Claude  want  to 
run  away  with  you  when  he  confidently  expected  to  make 
you  his  wife  the  day  after  to-morrow  ? ” 

But  Hetty  does  not  answer  him. 

She  rises  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  goes  to  the  fire-place, 
and,  with  one  foot  on  the  fender,  she  leans  against  the 
mantel-shelf,  her  mind  too  full  of  wonder  at  what  he  has 
told  her  to  pay  much  heed  to  the  man  himself. 

The  man’s  statement,  if  true,  relieves  her  mind  of  one 
anxiety,  while  it  conjures  up  half  a dozen  others  in  its 
place. 

She  knows  that  Lady  Daphne  hates  her  ; and  since  she 
has  been  so  unscrupulous  as  to  deprive  her  of  her  liberty, 
to  prevent  her  marriage  with  Lord  Claude,  she  can  well 
believe  that  the  vindictive  woman  will  stop  at  nothing  to 
attain  her  end. 

But  this  does  not  trouble  Hetty  greatly. 

In  so  far  as  she  is  personally  concerned,  she  will  be  very 
glad  to  escape  from  marrying  his  lordship  ; and  thus,  after 
a few  minutes  spent  in  thought,  she  turns  to  the  man  who 
is  watching  her,  and  asks,  disdainfully  : 

“ How  long  does  her  ladyship  propose  to  keep  me  here  ? 


268 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


When  does  she  suppose  that  her  brother  will  be  convinced 
of  the  uselessness  of  opposing  her  ? ” 

“You  don't  want  to  marry  Lord  Claude/’  asserts  the 
man,  drawing  a bow  at  a venture.  But,  eliciting  no 
response,  he  continues  : “ I have  not  watched  you  in  vain, 

Miss  Hetty  ; it  is  your  mother  who  is  forcing  you  to  marry 
his  lordship.  You  personally  dislike  him,  you  shrink  from 
him  whenever  he  comes  near  you  ; in  your  heart  you  will 
be  as  glad  to  have  this  match  broken  off  as  will  be  Lady 
Daphne  herself.” 

But  to  this  again  the  girl  makes  no  answer. 

If  silence  gives  consent  to  a suggestion,  then  he  has  it ; 
but  Hetty's  chilling  manner  never  relaxes  as  she  says, 
coldly : 

“You  have  not  told  me  how  long  her  ladyship  means  to 
keep  me  here  against  my  will.” 

“The  length  of  time  depends  upon  yourself,”  he  answers, 
blandly.  “ Her  ladyship  does  not  consider  her  brother  will 
be  safe  against  your  fascinations  until  you  are  married.” 

“ Indeed  ! And  whom  does  she  intend  me  to  marry  ? ” 
asks  the  girl,  her  eyes  flashing  with  scorn  and  indignation. 

“Your  humble  servant,”  is  the  answer,  with  a profound 
obeisance.  “She  knows  that  I adore  you.” 

“ Thank  you,  sir ; that  is  sufficient  ! ” is  the  imperious 
and  indignant  reply.  “You  can  leave  me  ! ” 

And  she  turns  away,  and  places  her  hand  upon  the  bell- 
rope,  ready  to  ring  for  Nita  if  he  does  not  at  once  obey  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

When  Hetty  turns  again  from  the  fire-place,  the  man 
whom  she  had  hitherto  known  only  as  a footman  is  gone. 

Her  indignation  had  made  her  calm  and  haughty  in  his 
presence ; but  now  she  is  alone  she  sinks  upon  the  nearest 
chair,  in  the  deepest  dejection. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


269 


With  head  bowed,  hands  clasped,  and  an  expression  of 
the  most  profound  sadness  on  her  beautiful  face,  Hetty  sits 
here  for  a long  time  thinking  of  Lady  Daphne  Irongate, 
and  wondering  what  further  diabolical  step  she  will  take 
when  she  finds  that  her  plan  of  making  her  marry  this  man 
is  likely  to  fail. 

Little  as  she  knows  of  the  world,  she  feels  certain 
that,  as  Lady  Daphne  has  gone  so  far,  she  will  have  to 
go  still  farther,  and  the  conviction  speedily  forces  itself 
upon  her  mind  that,  since  she  has  become  the  victim  of 
this  unscrupulous  womans  hatred,  he":  very  life  is  in 
danger. 

She  is  thus  thinking  in  this  desponding  fashion  when 
Nita,  the  young  woman  who  waits  upon  her,  comes  into  the 
room,  ostensibly  to  look  after  the  fire. 

When  it  is  replenished,  she  fidgets  about  the  apartment, 
taking  up  one  thing,  putting  away  another,  until  Hetty  at 
length  observes  her  movements  and  divines,  with  the  quick 
instincts  of  a woman,  that  she  has  something  to  say,  or  that 
she  desires  to  be  questioned. 

But  Hetty  does  not  know  how  to  begin  the  conversation. 

If  she  were  a wealthy  woman  she  would  offer  her  bribes  ; 
but  she  has  only  a few  shillings  in  her  pocket,  and  has 
nothing  about  her  of  value  except  Lord  Claudels  engage- 
ment-ring. 

How  little  she  cares  for  this  ring  we  have  seen  by  the 
manner  in  which  she  has  fought  against  wearing  it ; but  she 
looks  at  it  now  with  curious  eyes,  wondering  how  much 
money  it  is  worth,  and  whether  or  not  it  is  a sufficiently 
tempting  bribe  to  purchase  her  freedom. 

It  is  Nita  who,  after  having  waited  for  some  little  time, 
speaks  first : 

“ You  love  the  man  who  gave  you  that  ring  ?”  she  says, 
looking  at  the  jewel  with  covetous  eyes. 

“No,  I do  not!”  replied  Hetty,  promptly.  “It  is  my 
another  who  wishes  me  to  marry  him.” 


270 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


This  answer  makes  Nita  utter  a cry  of  surprise ; but  she 
says,  presently,  and  with  a dangerous  light  in  her  eyes : 

“ Then  you  love  Juan,  though  you  flout  him  ? ” 

“ Who  is  Juan  ? ” asks  Hetty,  curiously. 

“ He  was  here  but  now  ! ” replies  the  woman,  with  a dra- 
matic action  of  her  hands,  more  expressive  than  words. 

“ Love  him  ? ” cries  Hetty,  with  unfeigned  contempt.  I 
scarcely  knew  that  such  a creature  could  be  till  he  told  me 
himself  that  he  had  brought  me  here  for  gold.” 

“For  gold — for  love  !”  repeats  the  woman,  half  incred- 
ulously, yet  half  believing. 

“Yes,  for  gold,”  asserts  Hetty.  “But  this  is  worth  gold, 
too,”  she  continues,  extending  her  hand,  upon  which 
gleams  the  diamond  ring;  and  I would  give  it  gladly  to 
be  free.” 

The  woman’s  eyes  sparkle,  but  she  does  not  touch  the 
ring.  She  turns  away  her  head  and  says,  dubiously  : 

“ A bird  could  leave  its  cage  if  the  door  were  left  open  by 
chance.” 

“True,”  assents  Hetty,  quickly,  “and  the  jewel  would 
be  left  in  a vase  on  the  mantel-shelf.” 

“Then  the  bird  must  watch  for  the  chance,”  returns  the 
woman,  as  she  pretends  to  be  dusting  the  room,  “ and,  once 
free,  the  bird  must  be  careful  not  to  be  caught  again.” 
“Without  doubt,”  the  captive  returns. 

Suddenly  she  remarks,  in  a changed  tone : 

“ The  weather  is  bitterly  cold  and  the  snow  has  drifted. 
We  are  near  Willesden,  are  we  not  ?” 

“Nita!”  cries  a shrill  voice  at  the  door,  and  the  young 
woman  hastens  to  answer  the  call,  but  she  casts  a glance  at 
Hetty,  which  the  latter  understands. 

It  is  alike  a warning  and  a reply  to  her  question. ; and 
both  of  them  know  that  Nita’s  fidelity  is  doubted,  that  both 
of  them  are  watched. 

The  reason  of  this  is  clear  enough  to  Nita;  she  has 
shown  her  jealousy  of  the  captive,  her  fear  that  Juan,  whom 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


271 


she  loves,  may  care  for  the  fair-faced  stranger ; and  even 
Hetty's  assertion  that  the  man  brought  her  here  for  gold 
does  not  reconcile  her  to  her  presence. 

But  if  Hetty  will  escape,  no  blame  being  attached  to  her- 
self, and  if  she  will  leave  the  diamond  ring  behind  as  the 
price  of  her  freedom,  Nita  will  be  very  well  satisfied  to 
have  the  matter  thus  ended. 

The  moment  she  saw  the  girl's  beautiful  face  she  was 
jealous  of  it ; and  the  conversation  between  Juan  and  Hetty, 
which  she  had  partly  overheard  through  the  key-hole,  had 
greatly  disquieted  her. 

Juan  had  tried  to  pacify  her,  and  had  assured  her  that 
the  girl  would  only  remain  in  this  house  for  a day  or  two, 
but  Nita  feels  sure  that  there  is  danger  in  her  presence. 
She  and  her  mother  and  her  family  have  been  engaged  in 
political  intrigues  in  South  America,  from  whence  they 
came ; they  are  always  planning  and  plotting  to  return 
thither,  and  they  are  not  the  class  of  people  who  would 
keep  a girl  here  against  her  will,  except  to  oblige  a friend, 
and  that  also  but  for  a short  period. 

After  this  Hetty  goes  to  the  window,  and  looks  out  upon 
the  white  road  and  the  snow-covered  landscape. 

There  are  no  houses  exactly  opposite,  though  a road  has 
been  planned  out  for  building  purposes. 

Her  remark  about  their  being  near  Willesden  was  a pure 
guess  on  her  part,  made  rather  because  she  thought  some 
one  was  listening  at  the  door  than  with  the  anticipation  of 
discovering  her  exact  whereabouts. 

But  she  had  heard  the  railway  whistle  in  the  distance  too 
frequently  not  to  feel  sure  that  they  must  be  near  a great 
junction. 

Very  few  people  pass  the  window,  and  those  who  do  so 
seem  in  a great  hurry,  as  though  they  were  anxious  to 
catch  a train,  or  to  get  shelter  from  the  bitter  wind. 

Hetty  has  put  on  her  out-of-door  jacket,  remarking,  when 
Nita  comes  in  and  looks  hard  at  her,  that  she  feels  cold. 


272 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Her  hat  and  gloves  and  veil  are  all  ready  to  hand ; if 
the  door  were  open  she  could  leave  the  house  without 
spending  two  minutes  in  preparation,  and  more  than  once 
she  is  tempted  to  go  and  try  the  doors  and  force  her  way 
out. 

While  she  is  thus  meditating,  Nita  comes  in  with  a tray, 
upon  which  is  a chicken,  stewed  in  rice,  but  she  is  accom- 
panied by  her  mother,  who  stands  and  watches  her  sus- 
piciously. 

Something  in  the  younger  woman’s  face,  however,  impels 
Hetty  to  say,  “ Thank  you,”  and  to  seat  herself  at  the  table 
as  though  she  were  hungry. 

But  when  the  women  are  gone  and  she  is  left  alone,  she 
looks  over  the  tray  curiously,  hoping  to  find  some  message 
to  guide  her,  and,  to  her  delight,  she  discovers  a tiny  piece 
of  paper  half  under  her  plate  upon  which  is  written  in 
pencil : 

“ This  afternoon  a man  will  come  ; while  he  is  here  the 
bird  can  escape,  but  the  cage  door  must  be  left  open.  Burn 
this  and  remember.” 

Hetty  understands  the  hint  conveyed  in  the  note,  or  she 
believes  she  does,  and  she  makes  a good  meal,  not  knowing 
what  length  of  time  may  elapse  before  she  wfill  taste  food 
again. 

When  the  tray  is  fetched  away  the  captive  is  standing  by 
the  fire-place ; the  tiny  note  has  been  burned,  and  the 
diamond  ring  no  longer  gleams  upon  her  finger. 

Nita  observes  this,  but  she  makes  no  sign,  for  her  mother 
is  again  watching  her,  and  Hetty,  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  the  old  woman,  takes  up  a book  and  affects  to  be  inter- 
ested in  its  contents. 

Slowly  and  uneventfully  pass  the  next  two  hours.  Never 
in  Hetty’s  short  life  has  time  seemed  to  drag  upon  her 
hands  as  it  drags  now. 

The  wintry  day  is  drawing  to  a close.  It  cannot  be  much 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 273 

short  of  four  o’clock  when  Hetty  observes  a man  pass  the 
window  whose  face  she  has  seen  before. 

Where  has  she  seen  it  ? 

Memory  is  for  the  moment  at  fault,  then  the  truth  flashes 
upon  her  mind  — it  is  the  face  of  the  man  who  was  in  the 
dog-cart  with  Leon  de  Maestro,  when  he  overtook  her  as  she 
was  on  her  way  to  Hindfleet  Hall. 

He  knocks  at  the  door  of  the  house,  and  it  suddenly 
occurs  to  her  that  the  ex-footman  said  he  had  been  in  serv- 
ice at  Colneford  Castle  for  a purpose  that  did  not  concern 
her. 

She  likewise  remembers  that  Leon  asked  her  the  name  of 
the  gentleman  with  whom  she  was  walking  at  Walberswiek, 
and  that  he  seemed  to  anticipate  her  reply  when  she  said, 
“Lord  Claude  Irongate.” 

Can  Leon  de  Maestro  have  had  anything  to  do  with  bring- 
ing her  here  ? she  asks  herself,  but  she  speedily  decides  that 
this  cannot  be  so.  The  footman  had  been  bribed  by  Lady 
Daphne,  and,  whatever  his  motive  was  for  being  at  the  cas- 
tle, it  did  not  concern  her. 

Meanwhile  the  front  door  has  been  opened  and  closed 
behind  the  visitor,  and  now  Hetty  feels  that  her  time  has 
come. 

She  pins  on  her  hat  and  veil,  thrusts  her  hands  into  her 
muff,  then  stands  breathlessly  and  listens. 

Very  gently  she  turns  the  handle  of  the  room  door  and 
opens  it. 

The  sound  of  voices  falls  upon  her  ears. 

A few  light,  noiseless  steps  bring  her  to  the  front  door. 

With  hands  made  nervous  by  terror,  she  pulls  back  the 
latch,  opens  the  door  and  passes  out,  leaving  it  open  behind 
her. 

She  dare  not  run  for  fear  of  attracting  attention,  but  she 
walks  with  all  her  speed,  the  boisterous  wind  carrying  her 
along  until  she  has  turned  the  corner  of  the  street,  has  got 


274  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

where  there  are  more  houses,,  and  now  she  begins  to  feel 
safe  from  pursuit. 

The  sight  of  a policeman  gives  her  fresh  courage  ; she  is 
half  inclined  to  appeal  to  him  for  protection,  but  prudence 
whispers  to  her  that  it  will  be  best  to  hasten  home  as 
speedily  as  possible. 

So  she  asks  the  guardian  of  the  peace  the  way  to  the 
railway  station,  .and  he,  seeing  nothing  unusual  in  her 
appearance,  directs  her,  then  goes  slowly  upon  his  cold  and 
monotonous  round. 

When  she  reaches  the  station  she  observes  that  trains 
are  coming  and  going  with  bewildering  rapidity,  and  she 
hastens  to  the  booking-office,  and  asks  for  a ticket  for  Colne- 
ford. 

“Train  just  gone,  miss ; won’t  be  another  for  two  hours,” 
is  the  cheering  reply. 

“ Two  hours  ! ” echoes  Hetty  in  dismay. 

Then  a sudden  idea  occurs  to  her  mind,  and  she  asks, 
promptly  : 

“When  will  there  be  a train  for  Ricksworth  ?” 

“Due  in  three  minutes,”  is  the  answer. 

And  she  procures  her  ticket,  finds  the  right  platform, 
and  gets  into  the  Ricksworth  train  without  any  misad- 
venture. 

Stanmoor,  where  Hetty  lives,  stands  very  nearly  midway 
between  Colneford  and  Ricksworth. 

But  the  difference  between  the  two  places  is  that  the 
former  is  a market  town,  with  a couple  of  railway  stations, 
and  any  number  of  cabs  and  flys  for  the  convenience  of 
travelers,  and  Ricksworth  is  a miserable  little  roadside 
station  on  another  line,  without  a refreshment-room,  and 
where  any  kind  of  conveyance  is  impossible  to  be  obtained 
unless  it  has  been  previously  ordered. 

It  is  also  within  half  a mile  of  Hindfleet  Hall,  a house 
which  Hetty  never  expects  to  enter  again. 

Hetty  knows  the  difficulty  of  reaching  her  home  from 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


275 


Bicksworth.  She  will  have  to  walk  every  step  of  the  way  ; 
walk  along  the  dark  country  roads  alone,  where  the  drifted 
snow  will  make  the  short  journey  a very  perilous  one. 

But  any  discomfort,  any  danger  is  preferable  to  staying 
here,  with  the  chance  of  being  recaptured  or  followed  until 
she  is  alone  and  defenseless,  and  therefore  a more  easy 
prey. 

By  taking  this  train  she  must  escape  pursuit,  because  her 
flight  can  scarcely  as  yet  have  been  discovered. 

It  is  a cold  ride.  There  is  no  moon  to-night,  and  the 
country  would  look  very  dark  indeed  if  it  were  not  for  the 
snow,  which  lies  as  it  fell  in  some  places  that  are  sheltered 
by  the  wind,  and  that  is  drifted  into  great  heaps  in  others. 

A dangerous  night  to  be  about  in  the  dark,  when  pitfalls 
are  covered  with  a white  garment,  as  though  they  were 
solid  ground,  and  the  least  deviation  from  the  road  might 
plunge  one  into  a snow-drift. 

Hetty  realizes  the  danger  as  well  as  the  discomfort  of  the 
long  walk  before  her.  But  she  is  anxious  to  get  back  to 
her  parents,  to  allay  their  anxiety  on  her  behalf,  and  she 
steps  out  of  the  train  with  a light  heart  and  gives  up  her 
ticket,  casually  noticing  that  there  are  only  two  other 
passengers  besides  herself,  two  men,  wdio  seem  to  be 
scarcely  workmen  and  are  certainly  not  gentlemen. 

She  pays  but  little  heed  to  them,  nor  they  to  her.  She 
is  dressed  in  black  and  has  a veil  over  her  face,  while  she 
has  tucked  her  hair  under  her  hat  as  much  as  possible,  so 
that  there  is  really  nothing  about  her  to  attract  attention. 

But  she  does  observe  one  thing. 

It  is  that  one  of  the  two  men  carries  a leather  bag  in  his 
hand  that  is  heavy  and  of  which  he  is  very  careful. 

They  all  come  out  of  the  station  together,  but  the  men 
cross  over  to  a beer-shop  and  Hetty,  who  knows  the  road, 
sets  off  at  once  to  walk  to  Stanmoor. 

This  road  will  take  her  past  the  gates  of  Hindfleet  Hall, 


276 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


but,  though  it  is  not  the  nearest  way  to  Stanmoor,  it  is, 
without  doubt,  the  safest  on  such  a night  as  this. 

She  has  proceeded  but  a short  distance  when  snow  begins 
to  fall  — snow  in  large  flakes,  big  as  a two-shilling  piece  — 
and  in  a few  minutes  she  is  covered  from  head  to  foot  by 
the  blinding  storm. 

If  she  had  an  umbrella  she  might  shield  her  face  and  in  a 
measure  protect  herself ; but  she  has  none,  and  the  multi- 
tude of  white  flakes  bewilder  her. 

But  the  snow-storm  is  so  furious  she  feels  sure  it  cannot 
last  long,  and  she  looks  about  her,  vainly  for  a few  seconds, 
for  a shelter. 

Suddenly,  as  she  presses  forward,  she  finds  herself  close 
to  a dark  building,  a kind  of  barn,  just  inside  a field  by  the 
side  of  the  road. 

If  she  can  only  find  entrance  here  till  the  storm  is  over 
she  fancies  she  will  be  safe,  and  she  opens  the  field-gate  and 
tries  the  door  of  the  building. 

To  her  delight,  though  there  is  a padlock  on  the  door,  it 
is  not  locked,  and  she  pulls  it  open  and  enters,  feeling  at 
the  same  time  something  like  a trespasser. 

But  this  blinding  storm  is  excuse  enough  for  any  trespass, 
and  she  pushes  her  way  into  the  barn,  which  is  probably 
used  for  farm  implements. 

It  is  all  dark,  she  can  see  nothing  and  she  has  no  means 
of  obtaining  a light ; but  she  has  a certain  sense  of  security 
against  others  being  here  because  the  place  was  closed  from 
the  outside,  and  without  thinking  of  what  she  is  doing  she 
still  holds  the  padlock  in  her  hands. 

She  has  been  standing  here  for  five  or  ten  minutes,  wait- 
ing for  the  snow-storm  to  abate.  The  door  is  a little  open 
but  she  is  herself  in  shelter,  and  she  is  wondering  how  long 
she  will  have  to  wait  here,  when  the  sound  of  voices  comes 
on  the  air  and  she  knows  that  men  are  approaching. 

A sudden  terror  comes  over  her.  She  knows  not  why,  out 
she  feels  sure  that  they  are  coming  to  this  very  building. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  277 

Her  impulse  is  to  leave  it  — to  hide  herself ; but  whither 
can  she  go  ? 

There  is  snow  everywhere.  Snow  is  falling  so  thickly 
that  she  would  soon  be  buried  if  she  sought  shelter  in  a 
ditch,  and,  even  as  she  hesitates,  the  men  push  open  the 
field-gate  and  come  to  the  tool-house. 

At  this  terrible  moment  Hetty's  perceptions  are  preter- 
naturally  bright. 

The  men  are  coming  here  from  set  purpose.  She  knows, 
she  feels  it,  and  she  must  hide  herself  accordingly. 

So  she  gropes  her  way  to  the  farther  end  of  the  place,  her 
hands  coming  in  contact  with  certain  soft  things  in  the 
way,  which  she  guesses  to  be  empty  sacks,  and  when  she  has 
reached  an  extreme  corner  from  the  door  she  crouches  down 
and  pulls  two  of  these  sacks  over  her. 

If  a glare  of  light  were  to  shine  through  the  place,  and  a 
search  to  be  made,  she  would  be  revealed  at  once,  but 
among  carts  and  farm  implements  she  is  now  completely 
hidden. 

The  voices  are  at  the  door  of  the  outhouse  by  this  time. 
Two  men  enter,  and  she  thinks  from  the  tone  of  their  voices 
that  they  are  the  identical  men  who  alighted  from  the  train 
at  the  same  time  as  herself. 

Prom  their  conversation  she  hears  that  they  are  surprised 
to  find  the  door  open.  She  learns,  also,  that  this  is  a ren- 
dezvous, and  that  they  are  awaiting  the  arrival  of  a third 
person. 

Much  of  their  conversation  is  lost  to  her,  partly  by  dis- 
tance, partly  by  the  slang  in  which  it  is  couched ; but  she 
hears  enough  to  understand  that  a burglary  is  to  be  attempted 
to-night,  and  that  they  are  waiting  for  a servant  from  the 
house  in  question  to  meet  them  here  and  give  them  the  plan 
of  action. 

Presently  a third  man  joins  them,  and  for  a few  minutes 
Hetty,  in  her  distant  corner,  does  not  understand  what  they 
are  talking  about, 


278 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


At  length  she  realizes  that  the  third  man,  for  whom  the 
others  had  waited,  is  complaining  that  the  son  of  his  mis- 
tress has  come  home  — ill,  it  is  true — but  that  the  “old 
woman  ” won’t  be  alone. 

“I’ll  leave  the  pantry  window  open  for  you,  and  you  must 
bag  the  plate  and  the  jewels,”  says  the  third  man,  briefly. 
“I’ve  told  you  where  they  all  are.  But  you  mustn’t  begin 
till  midnight.  And  now  I must  be  off;  my  lady  may  ring 
for  me  at  any  minute.” 

“ There’s  plenty  more  to  answer  her  bell,  isn’t  there  ? ” 
growls  one  of  the  two  men. 

i;“  Yes  ; but  she  likes  me  best,”  is  the  complacent  response ; 
“she  is  upset  about  a girl  that  was  to  have  married  Lord 
Claude,  of  Colneliurst  Castle.  They  do  say  that  Mr. 
Gilbert  is  spoons  on  the  girl,  and  wants  her  himself,  and 
that  my  lady  won’t  hear  of  it ; anyway,  she’s  as  fractious  as 
a bear  with  a sore  head.” 

Soon  after  this  the  men  part,  one  of  the  first  two  remark- 
ing that  he  shall  leave  his  bag  here. 

But  when  the  question  of  fastening  the  door  crops  up, 
the  padlock  cannot  be  found,  and  the  bag  is  eventually 
taken  away. 

It  is  not  until  several  minutes  after  they  are  gone  that 
Hetty  creeps  out  from  her  hiding-place. 

She  understands  it  all  now  ! 

A burglary  is  to  be  attempted  at  Hindfleet  Hall  to-night ; 
one  of  the  footmen  is  an  accomplice  of  the  thieves ; and 
Gilbert  Tavenner  has  returned  from  abroad,  ill  and  unable 
to  protect  his  mother. 

Under  these  circumstances  her  duty  is  clear.  However 
unpleasant  that  duty  may  be,  she  must  go  to  the  hall  and 
warn  Lady  Edward  of  her  impending  danger ; then  hasten 
away,  her  greatest  dread  being  that  of  meeting  Gilbert 
Tavenner. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


279 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Never  did  girl  go  more  unwillingly  to  the  house  of  the 
man  she  loves  than  Hetty  Hamblin  makes  her  way  up  the 
avenue  of  Hindfleet  Hall,  and  knocks  loudly  at  the  door  for 
admittance. 

Hetty's  heart  beats  with  mingled  hope  and  fear ; hope 
that  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  will  receive  her  kindly ; fear 
lest  she  shall  meet  Gilbert  and  be  unnerved  at  the  sight. 

When  the  deepest  feelings  in  our  nature  are  stirred,  it  is 
singular  how  trifles  will  suddenly  call  us  out  of  ourselves, 
put  us  on  our  mettle,  as  it  were,  and  give  us  courage  and 
assumption,  such  as  we  should  not  ordinarily  possess. 

Hetty  is  timid  enough  as  she  waits  for  the  front  door  of 
the  hall  to  be  opened  to  her  ; but  when  a footman  demands 
her  business  with  Lady  Edward  she  steps  forward  into  the 
entrance  hall,  and  says,  with  dignity : 

“I  wish  to  speak  with  her  ladyship.” 

“ Have  you  a card  with  you,  miss  ? ” asks  the  man,  slightly 
impressed  by  her  manner ; though  he  looks  at  her  doubt- 
fully and  critically,  observing  the  traces  of  dust  and  of  snow 
upon  her  garments,  and  wondering  who  she  can  be  to  come 
here  on  foot,  and  on  such  a night. as  this. 

But  Hetty  is  too  intent  upon  her  mission,  too  anxious  to 
deliver  her  warning  and  to  get  away  speedily,  to  heed  the 
man  or  his  supercilious  manner,  and  she  replies,  promptly  : 

“No;  but  I will  write  a line  to  Lady  Edward  — she 
knows  me.” 

And  she  steps  to  a side-table  in  the  big  hall,  upon  which 
are  writing  materials,  and,  taking  a sheet  of  paper,  she 
hastily  scribbles  : 

4 4 My  Lady  : Please  see  me  for  a minute  alone  on  a matter  of  vital  impor- 
tance. Tour  humble  servant, 

‘ ‘Hetty  Hamblin.” 

This  she  places  in  an  envelope,  closes  and  directs,  then 


280 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


gives  it  to  the  servant  and  requests  him  to  take  it  to  his 
mistress  without  delay. 

Unconsciously  she  is  so  dignified  and  self-possessed  in 
her  manner,  so  resolute  to  see  Lady  Edward  Tavenner, 
that  the  man  has  no  option  but  to  obey,  and  he  takes  it  on 
a salver  to  his  mistress,  who  is  in  the  drawing-room,  talking 
to  her  son. 

Her  ladyship  takes  the  letter  with  a frown  at  being  thus 
interrupted,  reads  it,  starts  suddenly  as  she  recognizes  the 
name  of  the  writer,  glances  apprehensively  at  her  son,  and 
says,  briefly  : 

“ I will  come.  ” 

Then  she  crushes  the  paper  in  her  hand  and  flings  it  upon 
the  burning  coals. 

But  Gilbert  is  not  curious  about  his  mother’s  letters  ; he 
has  closed  his  eyes  and  is  lying  upon  the  couch,  his  pale, 
handsome  face  looking  ghastly  against  the  dark  mass  of  his 
waving  hair. 

Meanwhile,  Hetty  has  been  conducted  to  the  boudoir, 
and  there  Lady  Edaward  finds  her  standing  upon  the 
hearth-rug. 

“ This  is  a strange  hour  for  you  to  come  and  see  me,”  says 
the  lady  of  the  house,  in  grave  displeasure,  and  she  glances 
at  the  clock,  as  though  she  would  remind  the  girl  that  she 
has  no  time  to  spare. 

“It  is,  my  lady,”  replies  Hetty,  quietly,  “but  not  so 
strange  as  what  I have  come  to  tell  you.” 

“In  that  case,  speak,”  says  Lady  Edward,  shortly. 

“ Are  we  alone  — cannot  we  be  overheard  ? ” asks  the 
girl,  glancing  at  the  door. 

For  answer  Lady  Edward  locks  the  door,  draws  a heavy 
curtain  across  it  and  asks,  with  a mixture  of  impatience  and 
disdain  : 

“Now  are  you  satisfied  ? ” 

“Yes,  thank  you,”  Hetty  answers. 

Then  she  pauses  a moment  before  she  says  : 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


281 


“ Burglars  will  break  into  this  house  to-night  about 
twelve  o'clock ; one  of  the  footmen  is  an  accomplice,  and 
will  admit  them.  I overheard  the  plot  less  than  half-an- 
hour  ago,  in  a barn  by  the  roadside,  where  I had  gone 
in  for  shelter  from  the  falling  snow.  I have  come  to  tell 
you,  because  it  was  my  duty  to  do  so.  Good-night,  my 
lady.” 

And  before  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  has  recovered  from 
her  consternation,  Hetty  Hamblin  is  gone  — gone  out  into 
the  darkness  and  the  driving  snow,  with  two  good  miles  to 
walk  before  she  can  reach  home. 

And  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  paces  the  length  of  her 
boudoir,  a prey  to  conflicting  emotions. 

She  lifts  the  blind  and  looks  out  into  the  dark  night. 

Snow  is  still  falling,  though  not  so  heavily  as  it  did  a 
little  while  ago,  and  she  wonders  how  Hetty  will  get  home. 
Once,  indeed,  she  goes  to  the  bell  to  summon  a servant  to 
run  after  the  girl  to  bring  her  back  and  make  her  wait  until 
some  conveyance  can  be  found  to  take  her  to  her  destination. 

But  the  recollection  that  Gilbert  is  in  the  house,  that  he 
has  come  home  love-sick  and  ready  to  die  for  this  very  girl, 
arrests  her  hand,  and  the  bell"  is  not  sounded  — the  order  is 
not  given. 

“She  may  have  come  out  of  her  way  to  give  me  this 
warning,  but  she  would  have  been  out  in  the  snow  all  the 
same,”  thinks  her  ladyship,  thus  stifling  the  voice  of  con- 
science, and  knowing  nothing  of  the  manner  in  which 
Hetty  had  the  previous  night  been  taken  away  from  her 
home. 

But,  whatever  her  feelings  may  be  toward  Hetty,  the 
warning  she  has  just  given  alarms  her  ladyship  greatly. 

There  have  been  several  daring  robberies  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  late ; one  gentleman  whom  she  knew  has  lost  his 
life  through  resisting  the  burglars,  and  terror  fills  her 
proud  heart  as  she  realizes  that  she  and  her  son  may  this 
night  he  at  the  mercy  of  their  own  servants^ 

19 


282 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


One  of  the  footmen  would  admit  the  thieves,  Hetty  had 
said ; but  which  one  ? There  are  two,  and  she  cannot  sus- 
pect one  more  than  the  other. 

The  butler  is  an  old  servant,  has  been  in  her  service  for 
many  years,  and  she  believes  that  upon  him  she  can  rely ; 
but,  for  all  this,  an  unpleasant  sense  of  insecurity  steals  over 
her,  and  she  sits  down,  pale  and  bewildered,  knowing  not 
what  she  shall  do. 

It  is  some  comfort  to  her  that  her  son  is  at  home,  but 
Gilbert  is  in  no  fit  condition  of  health  to  cope  with  burg- 
lars ; he  is  still  weak  from  a fever  about  which  she  has  only 
just  heard,  and  he  is  a prey  to  the  torturing  anxiety  con- 
sequent upon  the  dread  that  the  girl  whom  he  loves  is  being 
forced  into  marriage  with  a man  whom  she  abhors. 

When  Gilbert  went  away  in  the  autumn  this  marriage 
seemed  far  ahead,  because  Hetty  told  him  she  would  not 
pledge  herself  to  any  one  until  she  was  eighteen. 

The  consequence  was  that  when  the  news  reached 
Gilbert  that  the  marriage  was  about  to  take  place  without 
delay  he  started  for  home  at  once,  and  would  have  reached 
the  hall  ten  days  ago  if  he  had  not  been  taken  ill  upon 
the  road.  » 

But  directly  he  could  hold  a pen  he  had  written  to  Hetty, 
entreating  her  to  wait  till  his  return  ; and  now  he  has  come 
back  to  his  mother,  to  make  an  appeal  to  her  to  give  him 
back  his  promise,  if  she  would  not  wreck  his  happiness. 

The  fate  of  his  letter  we  already  know,  Mrs.  Hamblin 
has  taken  care  of  that ; and  the  few  words  he  has  already 
said  on  the  subject  to  Lady  Edward  have  been  received  with 
so  much  coldness  that  it  is  very  clear  she  has  not  the  least 
intention  of  relenting. 

He  is  still  lying  on  the  couch  where  his  mother  left  him, 
when  she  returns  to  the  drawing-room. 

Sickness  and  mental  depression  have  made  a great  change 
in  him. 

The  strong  hand  is  weak  and  nerveless,  the  long  limbs 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


283 


are  languid ; the  fine,,  handsome  face  is  thin  and  sunken, 
making  the  features  more  marked,  and  the  eyes  look  preter- 
naturally  large  ; while  his  dark,  wavy  hair  has  grown  longer 
than  usual,  and  add  by  contrast  to  the  pallor  of  his  counte- 
nance. 

His  mother  feels  that  she  dare  not  tell  him  who  has  just 
been  with  her. 

If  he  knew  that  Hetty  is  walking  alone  in  the  snow  from 
his  home  to  her  own,  nothing  that  any  one  could  say  would 
prevent  him  from  following  her,  even  though  his  life  were 
to  pay  the  penalty. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner  feels  sure  of  this  as  she  sits  and 
watches  her  son,  and  a bitter  pang  of  pain  and  jealousy 
wrings  her  proud  heart  as  she  realizes  that  the  girl  to  whom 
she  had  just  spoken  is  dearer  to  Gilbert's  heart  than  she  is 
herself. 

But  the  warning  which  Hetty  has  given  her  must  not  be 
neglected,  though  she  scarcely  knows  how  to  act  upon  it ; 
and  for  awhile  she  sits  silent,  wondering  how  she  shall 
break  the  matter  to  her  son  without  letting  him  know  from 
whom  she  obtained  the  information. 

Suddenly  she  says  in  a low  tone,  having  taken  a seat  near 
to  him  : 

“ Gilbert,  I have  just  heard  that  we  are  to  be  visited  by 
burglars  to-night ; that  one  of  the  servants  is  going  to  admit 
them.” 

“ Burglars  ! ” repeats  her  son,  sitting  up  promptly,  with 
new  light  in  his  eyes  and  fresh  energy  in  his  countenance. 

“Hush!”  cries  his  mother,  cautiously;  “the  very  walls 
may  have  ears.” 

“ But  how  do  you  know  this  ? ” he  asks,  controlling  his 
excitement. 

“A  girl  has  just  been  to  tell  me,”  is  the  reply  ; “she  over- 
heard the  men  plotting.  She  said  the  hour  appointed  is 
midnight,  and  one  of  the  footmen  would  admit  them,” 


284 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


“ Where  is  she  — let  me  question  her  ? ” cries  the  young 
man,  eagerly. 

“ She  is  gone  ; she  did  not  wait  to  be  questioned.  I would 
not  have  let  her  go  if  I could  have  helped  it.  ” 

“Do  you  know  her  ?”  asks  Gilbert. 

“Yes,  I have  seen  her  before,”  is  the  reluctant  answer. 

“ What  is  her  name  ? ” he  demands. 

“Really  I cannot  tell  you,”  she  returns,  impatiently; 
“but  I believe  the  girl  to  be  perfectly  truthful.  No  girl 
would  come  out  of  her  way  such  a night  as  this,  to  tell  such 
a story  without  reward,  if  she  did  not  mean  to  tell  the 
truth.” 

“No  ; you  are  probably  right,  and  I hope  you  will  reward 
her  when  you  have  an  opportunity,”  remarks  Gilbert, 
thoughtfully.  Then  he  adds,  doubtfully  : “ I wish  I knew 
which  of  the  footmen  is  the  scoundrel.” 

“So  do  I,”  returns  his  mother  ; “but  we  cannot  find  out 
with  any  certainty.  The  question  before  us  is,  what  is  the 
best  thing  to  be  done  ? Shall  we  send  a mounted  groom  to 
Colneford  for  the  police  ? ” 

“Oh,  dear,  no  !”  laughs  Gilbert ; “if  you  were  alone  it 
would  be  different.  But  I will  give  the  fellows  a warm 
reception,  and  we  will  take  Tibbs,  the  butler,  into  our  con- 
fidence— he  is  faithful  enough.  He  and  I will  both  be 
armed,  and  at  the  first  shot  the  robbers  will , decamp,  you 
may  be  sure.  You  lock  yourself  in  your  own  room,  mother, 
and  donT come  out  on  any  pretense  whatever.” 

“I  should  like  more  help,”  returns  Lady  Edward,  uneas- 
ily ; “ the  men  who  try  to  break  in  may  be  armed  likewise, 
and  you  are  far  from  strong.” 

“No,  I am  weak  as  a rat,”  returns  Gilbert,  with  a tinge 
of  bitterness  in  his  voice ; “ but  I am  strong  enough  to  fire 
a shot.  And  if  we  seem  to  make  any  preparations  for 
defense,  the  traitor  in  our  service  will  give  the  alarm,  the 
attempt  may  then  not  be  made  to-night,  and  they  wifi 
break  in  upon  us  when  we  are  less  prepared  for  them,” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


285 


“Yes;  still  I wish  we  had  somebody  else  to  help  us,” 
says  Lady  Edward,  plaintively. 

Even  as  the  expression  of  the  wish  is  uttered  a visitor 
arrives,  the  Rev.  Cyrus  Grandville,  a curate  in  a neigh- 
boring parish,  who  had  been  at  college  with  Gilbert,  and 
had  by  accident  heard  of  his  return  this  afternoon  and  of 
his  alarming  state  of  health. 

Seeing  Gilbert  excited  as  he  now  is,  he  thinks  this  last 
report  greatly  exaggerated,  and  he  frankly  says  so  ; but  the 
critical  condition  of  affairs  is  soon  explained  to  him,  and 
then  he  exclaims,  promptly: 

“I  will  stay  the  night  with  you.  I suppose  your  infor- 
mation is  reliable  and  that  you  are  not  the  victims  of  a 
hoax  ? ” 

“Oh,  no,  there  is  no  hoax  in  the  matter,”  says  her  lady- 
ship, with  decision. 

And  then  they  discuss  the  whole  affair  over  again. 

Lady  Edward  will  not  leave  the  young  men  together,  and 
at  length,  taking  advantage  of  her  son's  temporary  absence, 
she  says,  hastily: 

“ Mr.  Grandville,  you  will  oblige  me  by  not  mentioning 
the  name  of  that  girl  whom  Lord  Claude  is  about  to  marry 
to  my  son  ? Gilbert  is  infatuated  with  her  ; it  is  his  insane 
infatuation  for  her  that  has  broken  down  his  health  like 
this.  I had  hoped  the  wedding  would  be  over  before  his 
return ; but  there  is  only  another  day  now,  and  then  he 
will  get  over  it,  and  be  out  of  danger.” 

“My  dear  Lady  Edward,  don't  you  know  that  the  girl 
has  disappeared  ? ” asks  the  young  man,  gravely. 

“ Disappeared  ! ” she  repeats  in  amazement. 

“Yes,  she  was  carried  off  last  night.” 

And  then  he  gives  an  exaggerated  version,  as  it  reached 
him,  of  what  did  really  occur. 

“Lord  Claude  is  like  a madman,”  he  continues.  “There 
must  be  something  wonderfully  fascinating  about  the  girl 
to  make  two  such  men  want  to  marry  her.  Pity  she  doesn't 


286 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


come  of  a better  stock,  though  her  mother  is  a gentle- 
woman, no  doubt  about  that.” 

With  a slight  but  contemptuous  wave  of  the  hand,  Lady 
Edward  sweeps  away,  as  it  were,  all  that  has  been  said  in 
Hetty’s  favor,  and  observes,  in  a slighting  tone  : 

“ The  girl  cannot  have  been  taken  far  from  home,  for  she 
was  here  this  evening ; it  was  she,  in  fact,  who  came  to 
warn  me  of  our  danger,  but  I would  not  have  Gilbert  know 
it  for  all  I possess.  ” 

“ And  where  is  she  now  ? ” asks  the  clergyman,  his  face 
changing  and  a stern  expression  coming  over  it. 

“ She  has  gone  home,  I presume,”  is  the  reply ; “she  did 
not  wait  for  me  to  question  her  She  overheard  this  plot, 
she  told  me,  while  she  was  taking  shelter  from  the  snow  in 
a barn.” 

“ And  you  allowed  her  to  go  home  on  such  a night  as 
this,  alone,  after  having  done  you  so  great  a service  ? ” asks 
the  priest,  incredulously. 

“ What  could  I do  ? ” demands  the  lady,  angrily.  “ She 
was  gone  before  I could  stop  her.  Besides,  I could  not 
have  kept  her  here,  with  Gilbert  in  the  house.” 

“ For  your  sake,  as  well  as  her  own,  I hope  she  will  reach 
her  home  safely,”  says  Mr.  Grandville,  gravely  ; “but  if  any 
evil  happens  to  her  on  the  way,  it  is  at  your  door  that  the 
blame  will  lie.” 

Lady  Edward’s  retort  is  arrested  on  her  lips  by  the  return 
of  her  son,  and  she  feels  angry  with  her  guest,  the  more  so 
because  she  knows  in  her  heart  that  what  he  has  said  is 
true. 

The  rest  of  the  evening  is  dull,  and  drags  wearily  with 
the  three  people,  who  feel  that  they  must  behave  as  usual 
before  the  servants. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  is  sometimes  excited,  at  others  deeply 
depressed. 

Cyrus  Grandville  is  unusually  silent.  Lady  Edward’s 
heartless  behavior  being  still  the  subject  of  his  thoughts. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


287 


And  her  ladyship  is  nervous  and  ill  at  ease,  dreading  the 
approach  of  midnight,  anxious  also  to  know  that  Hetty  has 
reached  Stanmoor  in  safety  and  promising  herself  to  send 
over  early  in  the  morning  to  make  inquiries. 

But  the  night  is  not  over  yet,  midnight  approaches  and 
all  the  household  seemed  to  have  retired  for  rest. 

Suddenly  doors  are  flung  wide  open,  lights  flash,  the 
sound  of  firearms  rings  through  the  night  air.  A scuffle 
ensues,  one  of  the  burglars  is  secured,  the  traitorous  foot- 
man is  a prisoner,  but  the  second  burglar  has  escaped,  not, 
however,  before  he  has  shot  down  Gilbert  Tavenner,  leaving 
him  unconscious  on  the  ground,  weltering  in  his  own  blood. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Never  so  long  as  she  lives  will  Hetty  Hamblin  forget  her 
walk  home  through  the  snowstorm  on  that  eventful  night. 

If  the  road  had  not  been  broad  and  straight,  she  must 
have  perished  in  a snow-drift,  for  the  ditches  are  full  of 
snow.  It  is  eight  feet  deep  in  some  places  and  the  ground 
would  be  bare  in  others  if  it  were  not  for  the  white  flakes 
that  are  still  falling. 

But  it  is  when  she  leaves  the  high-road  and  turns 
down  the  lane  which  leads  to  Stanmoor  that  her  danger 
really  begins. 

Again  and  again  she  falls  into  the  deep  snow,  that  blinds 
and  suffocates  her.  But  she  scrambles  out  again,  numb  and 
weary,  oppressed  by  the  intense  cold,  feeling  dazed  and 
giddy,  and  more  than  once  believing  she  had  altogether  lost 
her  way. 

It  was  about  four  o’clock  when  she  escaped  from  the 
house  at  Willesden,  and  it  is  past  nine  before  she  knocks  at 
the  door  of  Stanmoor  and  flings  herself,  more  dead  than 
alive,  upon  her  mother’s  breast. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  astonished,  bewildered,  but  overjoyed, 
nevertheless. 


288 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


During  the  past  four-and-twenty  hours,  she  has  been  a 
prey  to  the  most  cruel  anxiety  respecting  her  daughter ; 
and  even  Lord  Claude's  assurance  that  he  would  not  rest 
night  or  day  until  Hetty  is  found  has  not  afforded  her 
much  consolation.  Her  husband  has  been  to  Colneford 
twice  to-day,  and  has  now  gone  to  London  with  Lord  Claude 
to  engage  detectives  to  seek  for  the  missing  girl ; and  the 
poor  mother  had  been  seated  here  alone,  silent  and  sorrow- 
ful, when  suddenly  the  familiar  knock  had  made  her  heart 
bound  with  joy,  and  she  outstrips  the  servant  in  her  haste 
to  open  the  door  to  her  beloved  child. 

Hetty  is  so  terribly  exhausted  with  cold,  fatigue,  and  the 
terrible  strain  upon  all  her  mental  faculties  that  for  a time 
she  is  almost  speechless. 

But  her  mother  and  Molly  rub  her  hands  and  feet  before 
the  glowing  fire,  make  her  drink  hot  tea,  and  gradually  she 
begins  to  thaw,  and  is  able  to  answer  a few  questions  which 
her  mother  puts  to  her. 

The  desire  to  sleep  is  so  strong  upon  her,  however,  that 
her  mother  speedily  takes  her  to  her  own  room,  where  a 
fire  has  meanwhile  been  lighted,  and  presently  the  wearied 
girl  is  in  a deep  slumber. 

“ Nature's  great  restorer — balmy  sleep,”  having  fallen 
upon  her,  Mrs.  Hamblin  sits  in  the  room  and  watches  her 
daughter,  anxiously. 

She  feels  as  though  she  could  never  allow  the  girl  to  leave 
her  sight  again. 

And  then  she  doubts  the  reality  of  her  being  here  ; she 
bends  over  the  sleeping  maiden,  and  kisses  her  tenderly  ; 
then  walks  about  the  room,  and  even  pinches  her  own  arm 
to  assure  herself  she  is  awake,  and  not  the  victim  of  a 
dream. 

The  room  is  lighted  by  the  fire  and  by  a single  candle,  and 
again  and  again  the  fond  mother  takes  the  latter  in  her 
hand,  and  flashes  the  light  upon  her  darling's  face  to  assure 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  289 

herself  that  it  is  indeed  Hetty,,  and  that  she  lives  and 
breathes,  though  she  sleeps  the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

What  agony  of  mind  she  has  suffered  this  day  no  tongue 
or  pen  can  tell. 

The  death  of  her  son  has  been  as  nothing  to  the  loss  of 
her  daughter,  for  her  mind  had  conjured  up  every  possible 
horror  connected  with  the  girl's  disappearance,  and  she  can 
scarcely  believe  now  that  her  fears  have  been  all  vain. 

Voices  down-stairs  tell  her  that  her  husband  has  returned, 
and  she  goes  to  meet  him,  closing  the  door  of  the  room 
carefully  behind  her. 

Joe  Hamblin  is  not  alone;  Lord  Claude  is  with  him. 

Both  of  them  had  come  here,  disheartened  and  weary,  to 
tell  the  sorrowing  mother  of  the  steps  they  have  taken  to 
find  her  child;  and  both  are  electrified  by  Molly's  eager 
announcement  the  moment  they  enter  the  house: 

“ She's  come  back,  sir  ! She's  come  back,  my  lord  ! Miss 
Hetty's  safe  enough,  though  she's  tired  to  death,  poor 
dear ! ” 

Mrs.  Hamblin  appears  at  this  juncture,  and  the  glad  news 
is  confirmed — news  that  unnerves  the  two  men,  who  have 
lived  through  such  a long,  agonizing  day. 

Presently,  when  they  become  more  calm,  Mrs.  Hamblin 
repeats  the  little  she  has  been  able  to  glean  from  Hetty,  as 
to  where  she  has  been  and  how  she  returned ; then  she 
adds,  gravely  : 

“ I should  not  be  surprised  if  the  poor  child  is  ill  after 
this.  The  walk  from  Bicksworth  alone  on  such  a night  is 
quite  enough  to  kill  her.” 

“Yes;  it  is  a fearful  night,”  assents  his  lordship.  “But 
Hetty  is  young  and  strong,  she  will  soon  recover  from 
mere  physical  fatigue,  and  the  day  after  to-morrow  she  will 
be  as  bright  as  ever.” 

“She  will  not  be  well  enough  to  be  married  the  day 
after  to-morrow,”  says  Mrs.  Hamblin,  decisively.  “That 


290 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


is  quite  out  of  the  question.  You  will  have  to  postpone 
the  wedding  for  a week  or  ten  days,  my  lord.” 

“ We  will  talk  about  that  to-morrow,”  returns  his  lord- 
ship,  evasively.  “ In  the  morning,  Hetty  may  be  herself 
again,  and  there  will  then  be  no  need  for  delay.” 

“I  am  afraid  that  is  not  probable,”  replies  the  mother, 
with  a grave  smile.  “ But  we  will  leave  it  to  her  ; nothing 
can  be  done  to-night  in  any  case.” 

A remark  which  Lord  Claude  takes  as  a hint  that  there 
is  no  need  for  him  to  stay  here  any  longer,  and  he  now 
remembers  that  his  carriage  and  a pair  of  horses  are  stand- 
ing outside  in  the  snow. 

So,  after  a few  more  words,  he  takes  his  departure,  it 
being  still  uncertain  if  his  marriage  is  to  be  again  post- 
poned, or  the  day  after  to-morrow  is  to  see  Hetty  Hamblin 
his  bride. 

When  Hetty  wakes  the  following  morning,  a couple  of 
hours  later  than  her  usual  hour  of  rising,  she  looks  around 
the  familiar  room  in  wonderment. 

A fire  is  burning  in  the  grate,  a kettle  is  singing  on  the 
hob;  a tray,  upon  which  is  a snowy  cloth  and  cup  and 
saucer,  is  on  a table,  and  her  mother  is  seated  upon  an  old 
but  well-cushioned  chair,  her  usually  busy  hands  lying  idle 
upon  her  lap. 

“ Mother  ! dear  mother  ! ” cries  the  girl. 

And  quickly  the  latter  is  by  her  side,  and  has  enfolded  her 
in  her  warm  embrace. 

“ Have  I been  ill  ? ” asks  Hetty,  after  a long  pause. 

“No,  dear — why  ?”  is  the  question. 

“It  looks  like  it  to  see  you  sitting  there  by  the  fire,”  is 
the  answer.  “ But  when  did  I come  home  ? It  was  not  a 
dream  that  I was  carried  away,  was  it  ? ” 

“No  dream,  my  darling,”  is  the  answer,  “and  you  must 
tell  me  all  about  it  directly.  But  breakfast  first.  You 
were  too  exhausted  last  night  to  eat  anything.” 

“That  is  not  the  case  this  morning,”  laughs  Hetty.  “I 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


291 


am  as  hungry  as  the  proverbial  hunter,  which  is  scarcely 
wonderful,  as  I have  eaten  nothing  since  midday  yesterday.” 

“ Well,  eat  now  and  talk  afterward,”  is  the  response. 

And  then  a cup  of  tea  and  a new-laid  egg  is  brought,  and 
it  is  not  until  the  light  breakfast  is  eaten  that  Mrs.  Hamblin 
allows  her  daughter  to  begin  the  story  of  what  she  has  gone 
through  during  the  time  she  was  absent  from  her  home. 

The  mother's  indignation  is  very  great  when  she  hears 
that  Lady  Daphne  Irongate  was  the  prime  mover  in  the 
plot  against  her  Hetty's  liberty,  and  she  mentally  resolves 
that  her  ladyship  shall  pay  dearly  for  her  unprincipled  and 
illegal  interference,  and  the  knowledge  of  this  decides  her  to 
throw  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  daughter's  marriage 
with  Lord  Claude  on  the  morrow. 

After  what  has  already  occurred,  Mrs.  Hamblin  believes 
Lady  Daphne  to  be  capable  of  any  wickedness  to  prevent 
her  brother's  marriage  with  Hetty;  and  for  this  reason,  if 
for  no  other,  she  resolves  that  this  marriage  shall  be  an 
accomplished  fact  without  further  delay. 

This  conversation  between  mother  and  daughter  is  a long 
one. 

Tears  of  sympathy  spring  to  the  mother's  eyes  when  she 
hears  of  the  girl's  sufferings,  both  in  the  house  at  Willesden 
and  during  the  long  walk  from  Ricksworth  ; and  yet  Hetty 
says  nothing  about  the  conversation  she  overheard  when  she 
took  refuge  in  the  barn,  neither  does  she  speak  of  that 
unpleasant  and  flying  visit  to  Hindfleet  Hall. 

Even  to  herself  she  scarcely  cares  to  think  of  that  brief 
visit. 

Lady  Edward  Tavenner's  manner  toward  her  had  galled 
and  wounded  her  gentle  spirit. 

The  feeling  that  she  was  being  treated  with  scorn  and 
disdain  in  the  house  of  the  man  she  loved,  while,  too,  he 
was  under  the  very  same  roof  with  her,  had  made  that  pure 
love,  for  the  time,  seem  like  some  heavy  affliction  sent  to 
torment  her,  and  but  for  the  thought  of  her  parents  mourn- 


292 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


ing  for  her  at  home  she  could  have  sat  down,  in  the  driving 
snow  and  wept  long  and  bitterly. 

To  have  done  this  would  have  been  to  court  destruction, 
but,  as  she  left  Hindfleet  Hall  behind,  the  pale  phantom 
Death  had  lost  his  terrors  for  her.  It  was  the  thought  of 
the  desolation  that  would  fall  upon  her  mother's  heart  that 
spurred  her  on  to  reach  her  home  despite  all  obstacles. 

But  of  all  this  she  says  nothing  to  her  mother.  She 
does  not  wish  to  mention  the  name  of  the  Tavenners. 

Instinct  warns  her  that  if  she  meets  Gilbert  Tavenner 
again  before  she  is  married  his  presence  will  cause  her 
infinite  pain  and  suffering,  and  her  repugnance  to  become 
Lord  Claude's  wife  will  be  tenfold  intensified. 

That  she  will  be  compelled  to  meet  him  at  some  future 
date  she  does  not  doubt,  but  when  she  is  the  wife  of  another, 
when  the  barrier  between  them  will  be  impassable,  then, 
she  assures  herself,  she  will  be  able  to  meet  his  gaze  with 
calmness,  and  wonder,  perhaps,  in  that  future  state  how  she 
could  so  passionately  have  loved  one  who  had  cared  so  very 
little  for  her  in  return. 

Yes,  this  is  the  conviction  that  has  been  growing  upon 
Hetty  of  late. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  cannot  love  her  or  he  would  have  made 
some  effort  to  rescue  her  from  a union  from  which  she  can- 
not escape. 

No  word  of  love  has  reached  her  from  him  since  he  parted 
with  her  under  the  trees  that  morning  when  he  saved  her 
from  Jem  Blake's  murderous  grasp. 

He  had  gone  away  from  England  of  his  own  free  will  and 
he  has  not  sent  her  so  much  as  a message  by  any  one.  He 
has  now  returned  home  and  still  he  is  silent,  and  he  must 
know,  as  all  the  neighborhood  knows,  that  to-morrow  is  to 
be  her  wedding-day. 

After  that  fateful  ceremony  is  over  she  will  be  as  much 
divided  from  him  as  though  the  dark  river  of  death  rolled 
between  them. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


293 


Thoughts  like  these  drift  through  her  mind  as  she 
watches  the  fire  burn  in  the  grate,  and,  looking  through  the 
nearest  window,  sees  the  white  flakes  of  snow  floating 
gracefully  downward  on  the  still  air. 

“ I am  helpless  and  powerless  to  resist  my  fate  as  one  of 
those  flakes  of  falling  snow,”  she  thinks,  sadly. 

But  presently  she  rouses  herself  and  smiles.  She  feels 
wonderfully  well  to-day 

Despite  the  fatigue  she  went  through  yesterday,  her  deep 
sleep  through  the  long  night  has  refreshed  her;  she  feels  in 
good  spirits  also,  hopeful  and  buoyant,  in  defiance  of  the 
fact  that  to-morrow  she  is  to  be  married  to  a man  whom  she 
neither  loves  nor  honors. 

She  marvels  at  herself;  and  yet,  so  easy  is  self-deception, 
she  would  scout  the  idea,  if  suggested  to  her,  that  the 
change  in  her  spirits  is  caused  by  the  knowledge  that  Gil- 
bert Tavenner  is  again  in  his  own  home,  and  within  an  easy 
ride  of  Stanmoor. 

A couple  of  hours  later  and  Hetty  is  in  the  sitting-room 
below,  and  Lord  Claude  is  at  her  side,  talking  of  his  love 
and  of  the  bliss  which  the  morrow  will  bring  him. 

To  his  lordship’s  delight  there  has  nothing  been  said  this 
morning  about  postponing  the  marriage. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  seems  to  have  forgotten  her  objections  of 
last  evening,  and  Hetty  looks  so  bright  and  so  much  better 
than  she  has  done  of  late  that  the  suggestion  of  her  health 
being  a good  cause  for  delay  is  palpably  absurd. 

Of  course.  Lord  Claude  is  furiously  indignant  with  his 
sister,  and  promises  to  make  her  pay  dearly  for  her  outrage- 
ous conduct  toward  Hetty;  but  he  laughs  joyously,  as  he 
cries,  in  a tone  of  triumph  : 

“ She  will  know  when  we  come  out  of  church  to-morrow 
that  all  her  plots  and  plans  have  been  in  vain,  for  my  aunt 
shall  telegraph  the  good  news  to  her  at  once.” 

Hetty  smiles  faintly. 

She  would  be  less  than  human  if  she  did  not  feel  some 


294 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


satisfaction  in  thwarting  the  proud  woman  who  hates  her 
with  such  a rancorous  hatred;  hut  the  smile  is  quickly 
followed  by  a sigh — the  triumph,  after  all,  will  be  dearly 
purchased. 

There  are  so  many  things  still  to  be  settled  that  Lord 
Claude  does  not  stay  long  with  Hetty  this  morning. 

The  arrangements  for  the  wedding  already  made  are  to 
hold  good. 

The  marriage  is  to  take  place  to-morrow,  in  Colneford 
parish  church,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

Then,  contrary  to  custom,  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  with 
their  friends,  are  to  return  to  Colneford  Castle,  where  such 
people  who  know  them,  and  will  care  to  call,  will  be 
received ; but  at  four  o'clock  the  wedded  pair  will  start  for 
their  honeymoon,  the  first  two  days  of  which  are  to  be  spent 
in  London. 

This  matter  of  the  reception  has  not  been  arranged  by 
Hetty. 

She  would  much  rather  be  married  in  a traveling-dress 
and  drive  away  from  the  church,  making  no  kind  of  parade 
or  festivity  about  the  whole  affair. 

But  Mrs.  Hamblin  will  not  have  it  so.  To  her  this  mar- 
riage will,  she  believes,  be  the  coming  back,  if  only  for  a 
brief  period,  to  her  forfeited  estate,  and  if  she  could  only 
get  rid  of  her  husband  for  the  time  she  could  almost  believe 
that  her  past  had  been  entirely  redeemed. 

Mrs.  Beevor  has  very  readily  fallen  in  with  Mrs.  Ham- 
blin's suggestions. 

This  old  lady  — wise  in  her  generation  — thinks  that  if 
the  marriage  is  to  take  place  they  may  all  of  them  as  well 
be  merry  over  the  event.  She  wishes  to  make  herself  of 
importance  to  the  young  couple,  and  knowing  the  value  of 
domestic  trifles  where  our  comforts  are  concerned  she  has 
given  the  maids  new  caps  and  gowns,,  the  men  servants  new 
liveries,  and  has  told  them  they  may  have  a ball  in  the  serv- 
ants' hall  to  celebrate  their  master's  nuptials. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


295 


Mrs.  Hamblin  also  is  to  spend  a week  with  Mrs.  Beevor 
at  the  castle.  Joe  was  likewise  included  in  the  invitation, 
but  he  has  wisely  declined  it,  declaring  he  shall  be  more 
comfortable  at  home. 

And  in  this  he  is  right.  Stanmoor  is  still  to  be  the  res- 
idence of  himself  and  his  wife,  though  he  is  henceforth  to 
be  relieved  of  his  duties  as  trainer. 

Such  are  the  plans  made,  but  why  dwell  upon  them  ? 

Man  proposes  ; it  is  God  that  disposes. 

In  all  this  Hetty  is  but  as  a puppet  in  the  hands  of 
others. 

She  has  scarcely  had  a voice  in  the  selection  of  her  wed- 
ding-dress, though  it  comes  home  this  evening,  white 
gleaming  satin,  with  a halo  of  almost  invisible  tulle,  upon 
which  a few  orange-blossoms  show  the  occasion  for  which 
it  is  to  be  'worn. 

It  is  very  lovely,  and  Hetty  admires  it,  as  a true  artist 
must  do,  the  wintry  light  falling  softly  upon  the  sheeny 
satin.  She  also  admires  the  diamond  stars  which  Lord 
Claude  has  sent  for  her  acceptance  to  be  worn  at  her  bridal, 
but  she  will  not  put  them  on  as  her  mother  suggests. 

The  coldness  of  the  stones  make  her  shiver,  and  she  says, 
with  unusual  impatience  : 

“Not  to-day,  mother.  I shall  have  quite  enough  of  them 
to-morrow.” 

So  the  last  day  of  her  freedom  dies. 

If  she  had  expected  a messenger  from  Hindfleet  Lall  she 
is  disappointed,  for  no  letter  or  messenger  comes,  and  the 
day  of  her  captivity  dawns,  bright  and  cloudless. 

Snow  lies  upon  the  valley,  heath  and  hill,  but  the  sun 
shines  with  that  appalling  glare  which  only  sunshine  upon 
snow  can  give  in  these  latitudes. 

Blinding  is  the  cruel,  white  light,  and  Hetty  draws  down 
the  green  blinds  to  keep  out  the  overpowering  glare. 

“Happy  the  bride  that  the  sun  shines  on,”  quotes  her 


296 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


mother,  as  she  comes  smiling  into  the  room,  followed  by 
Molly,  bringing  the  bride’s  breakfast. 

And  Hetty,  replies  bitterly  : 

“ Too  happy,  I am  afraid,  mother,  if  my  happiness  is  to 
be  in  proportion  to  this  blinding  light.” 

To  this  Mrs.  Hamblin  makes  no  reply. 

The  morning  is  bright  as  bright  can  be.  Snow  still 
covers  the  ground,  but  over  it  is  a glittering  frost  that 
refuses  to  melt  in  the  sun’s  rays,  and  that  makes  the  roads 
and  everything  that  foot  can  tread  upon  as  smooth  and 
slippery  as  glass. 

Hetty  looks  out  upon  the  white  landscape  and  shivers. 

Hope  has  departed  from  her.  Gilbert  Tavenner  will 
neither  come  nor  send ; and,  even  if  he  were  to  do  either, 
his  intervention  would  be  now  too  late. 

There  are  to  be  no  bride’s-maids  at  this  singular  wedding. 

Hetty  would  have  liked  to  invite  Laura  Mertonville  to 
attend  her  at  church,  but  both  her  mother  and  Lord 
Claude  have  opposed  the  idea,  and  she  submits,  as  she  has 
submitted  to  so  much  that  was  painful  and  harrowing  to 
her  feelings. 

It  is  one  o’clock,  and  Hetty  is  dressed  for  her  bridal. 

She  has  on  her  white,  shining  gown,  with  its  pearly  folds 
and  graceful  train. 

Lord  Claude’s  diamonds  gleam  upon  her  head  and  at  her 
throat. 

If  beauty,  a noble  bearing,  and  clear,  truthful  eyes  are 
qualifications  for  a coronet,  then,  indeed,  she  merits  one. 

With  the  exception  of  veil  and  gloves,  she  is  ready  to 
descqnd  to  the  carriage  that  will  soon  arrive  for  her ; and, 
meanwhile,  her  mother  has  gone  to  dress,  and  is  more  back- 
ward than  the  bride. 

Hetty  is  surprised  at  her  own  sensations  to-day,  she  is  so 
calm  and  passionless. 

Desire  to  escape  her  fate  has  left  her. 

Once  more,  before  she  leaves  this  home,  she  kneels  to 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


297 


pray,  but  she  has  not  been  upon  her  knees  five  minutes 
before  Molly,  the  servant,  comes  into  the  room  and 
exclaims,  excitedly  : 

“I  can’t  stay  at  home  alone,  miss — and  I won’t ! Rob- 
bers will  come  and  take  me  away  if  I do  ! They’ve  broke 
into  Hindfleet  Hall,  and  murdered  Mr.  Gilbert  Tavenner, 
and  ” 

“ Stop  ! ” cries  Hetty,  her  face  suddenly  becoming  as 
white  as  the  gown  she  wears ; “ what  happened  at  Hindfleet 
Hall  ? Tell  me  quickly  ! ” 

“Well,  ’twas  night  before  last,  miss.  The  night  you 
come  home,”  begins  the  g?_l.  But  Hetty  holds  up 
her  hand,  and  she  continues  ‘Burglars  broke  into  the 
hall ; they  didn’t  steal  nothing,  cause  they  were  caught ; 
but  one  as  got  away  shot  Mr.  Gilbert  Tavenner,  and  if  he 
isn’t  dead,  he’s  dying ; there  ain’t  no  hope  for  him,  no 
how  ! ” 

Then  she  utters  a wild  cry  of  alarm,  which  brings  Mrs. 
Hamblin  to  the  rescue,  for  Hetty  has  sunk  upon  the 
ground,  white  and  senseless,  her  bridal  wreath  looking  as 
though  it  would  crown  her  for  her  grave. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Meanwhile,  Colnehurst  parish  church  is  alive  with 
excitement. 

Every  available  foot  of  standing  room  has  been  appro- 
priated by  the  interested  townspeople,  who  are  always  to 
the  front  when  any  little  bit  of  excitement  is  on  foot. 

The  story  of  Lord  Claude  Irongate’s  love  for  his  trainer’s 
daughter  has  been  circulated  far  and  wide,  and  now  the 
church  and  all  its  approaches  are  crowded  by  people  who 
are  anxious  to  catch  even  the  faintest  glimpse  of  the  beau- 
tiful bride. 

There  is  much  subdued  whispering  while  the  assembled 
20 


298  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

multitude  is  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom. 

Many  of  Lord  Claude's  friends  are  here  who,  later  on, 
will  come  to  the  reception  at  the  castle,  notably  Lord 
Ingledene,  who  has  come  by  special  invitation  from  Mrs. 
Beevor. 

That  good  lady  has  been  anxious  to  make  the  reception  a 
success,  to  prevent  her  nephew  from  feeling  that  most  of 
his  friends  have  deserted  him  at  this  juncture  ; and  having 
occasion  to  write  to  Lord  Ingledene  yesterday,  she  had 
mentioned  Hetty's  abduction  at  the  instigation  of  Lady 
Daphne,  and  had  expressed  a hope  that  his  lordship  would 
come  to  the  wedding. 

So  here  he  is,  brought  to  me  church  partly  by  friendli- 
ness, partly  by  curiosity,  little  dreaming  that  he  will  him- 
self have  an  important  part  to  play  in  the  drama  that  is 
now  being  enacted. 

The  marriage  is  timed  to  take  place  at  two  o'clock,  and 
before  that  hour  Mrs.  Beevor  arrives,  accompanied  by  a 
friend,  and  meeting  Lord  Ingledene  near  the  altar  she 
shakes  hands  with  him  cordially ; then  she  glances  round 
the  crowded  church,  and  smiles  at  the  sea  of  faces  turned 
toward  her. 

Presently  Lord  Claude  arrives,  and  now  a thrill  of  excite- 
ment runs  through  that  great  assembly'  for  they  feel  sure 
that  the  bride  cannot  be  far  behind. 

The  clock  strikes  two ; the  clergyman,  the  bridegroom, 
all  the  invited  guest  are  assembled  ; but  where  is  the  bride  ? 

Is  she  showing  her  power  over  the  man  about  to  marry 
her,  by  keeping  him  and  his  friends  awaiting  her  good 
pleasure  ? Who  can  tell  ? 

Slowly  pass  the  minutes  when  we  wait  and  watch  for 
them  to  depart,  and  the  church  clock  chimes  out  the  first 
quarter  when  people  think  that  twice  that  length  of  time 
has  gone  by. 

Lord  Claude  looks  more  handsome  than  usual  to-day. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


299 


There  is  a sense  of  triumph  about  him,  and  many  are  the 
bright  eyes  that  look  upon  him  kindly,  while  the  fair  owners 
envy  Hetty  her  good  fortune. 

His  face  changes  slightly,  when  he  meets  Lord  Ingledene. 
It  would  seem  as  though  his  presence  brought  to  his  mind 
some  unpleasant  memory,  but,  if  it  is  so,  he  chases  it  away 
quickly,  shakes  his  lordship  by  the  hand,  and  looks  about 
him  curiously.  But  in  such  a sea  of  faces  who  can  dis- 
tinguish individuals  ? Certainly  not  Lord  Claude,  and 
he  is  really  too  much  excited  to  look  closely  at  any  of 
them. 

He  has  this  morning  heard  of  Gilbert  Tavenner’s  danger, 
and  it  would  really  not  be  true  to  say  that  he  is  grieved  at 
the  calamity  which  has  befallen  his  rival.  For  that  Gilbert 
is  his  rival  he  has  all  along  felt  rather  than  known. 

The  minutes  go  slowly  by.  The  second  quarter  strikes 
and  still  no  bride  appears,  and  there  is  a restless  stir  among 
the  congregation  and  much  whispering  as  to  the  cause  of 
this  unpardonable  delay. 

“If  she  doesn’t  come  soon  you  can’t  be  married  to-day,” 
remarks  Lord  Ingledene,  grimly,  addressing  the  bride- 
groom. 

And  the  latter  frowns  as  he  replies  : 

“ I cannot  understand  it.  Her  mother  would  surely  have 
sent  if  anything  had  happened.” 

Even  as  he  speaks  a messenger  arrives  from  Stanmoor 
with  a letter,  which  Lord  Claude  tears  open,  nervously. 

It  is  a hurried  note,  written  by  Mrs.  Hamblin,  and  is  to 
the  effect : 

“ Hetty  has  been  taken  ill,  but  is  better,  and  we  are  on 
our  way.  I hope  we  will  be  in  time.” 

“Ah,  I thought  it  was  wonderful,  she  was  so  well  yester- 
day,” mutters  his  lordship,  gloomily. 

Then  he  looks  at  his  watch,  asks  some  questions  of  the 
messenger  and  goes  to  the  church  door  to  await  the  arrival 
of  the  bride. 


300 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


The  carriage  from  Stanmoor,  with  its  pair  of  white  horses, 
drives  up  to  the  church  door  at  last,  just  as  the  clock  is 
about  to  chime  a quarter  to  three. 

“We  have  no  time  to  lose,”  says  Lord  Claude,  coming 
forward  eagerly,  and  helping  the  bride  and  her  mother  to 
alight. 

Then  he  perceives  that  Hetty’s  face  is  whiter  than  the 
gown  she  wears,  and  that  her  wonderful  eyes  have  a strained 
look  in  them,  as  though  she  had  gazed  upon  some  horrible 
sight  which  she  cannot  yet  forget. 

But  the  ladies  are  alone  in  the  carriage,  and  his  lordship 
asks,  sharply,  in  an  undertone,  of  Mrs.  Hamblin  : 

“ Where  is  your  husband  ? He  was  to  have  given  her 
away.” 

“ Drunk  — dead  drunk ! ” is  the  low-toned  and  contempt- 
uous reply. 

“Well,  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost,”  cries  his  lordship, 
promptly.  “Ingledene  must  take  his  place.” 

He  is  so  hurried,  so  peremptory,  that  he  does  not  observe 
the  sudden  pallor  that  comes  over  Mrs.  Hamblin’s  face, 
nor  the  stare  of  inquiry,  rather  than  of  recognition,  with 
which  Lord  Ingledene  regafds  the  faded,  though  still  hand- 
some, woman  whom  he  knows  to  be  the  trainer’s  wife. 

But  despite  his  amazement.  Lord  Ingledene  does  not  hes- 
itate ; he  takes  the  pale  but  beautiful  bride  upon  his  arm, 
and  with  her  walks  calmly  up  the  aisle  to  the  altar  rails. 

Every  eye  is  turned  upon  them. 

He  looks  young  to  stand  in  the  place  of  a father,  and  she 
looks  too  statue-like  to  be  a happy  bride. 

There  is  no  unnecessary  delay  now ; the  service  is  com- 
menced, the  clergyman’s  voice  comes  clear  and  distinct  to 
every  corner  of  the  building  as  he  says  : 

“ Therefore,  if  any  man  can  show  just  cause  why  they 
may  not  be  lawfully  joined  together,  let  him  now  speak,  or 
else  forever  hold  his  peace.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


301 


There  is  a slight  pause  here,  broken  by  the  voice  of  a man 
exclaiming : 

“ I can  show  just  cause ; this  woman  is  his  wife  ! ” 

And  the  speaker  comes  forward  from  a secluded  pew,  in 
which  he  had  been  sitting,  leading  a short,  dark-faced 
woman  by  the  hand. 

The  words  act  like  a spell  upon  Hetty  — they  transform 
her  from  a moving  statue  into  a living  woman,  in  whose 
breast  hope  suddenly  springs  into  life  ; and  she  turns  with 
strange  gladness  to  look  at  the  intruders. 

“ It  is  a lie  ! ” cries  Lord  Claude,  his  face  flushed  with 
passion ; “ I don’t  know  this  woman  — I have  never  seen 
her  before.  Where  is  the  proof  that  she  is  my  wife  ?” 

“Come  to  the  vestry,”  says  the  rector,  hastily  closing  his 
prayer-book. 

But  Lord  Claude  protests  : 

“ This  woman  is  mad,  she  is  nothing  to  me.  Continue 
the  service,  if  you  please.” 

“It  is  too  late  to-day,”  replies  the  rector,  solemnly. 

And  even  as  he  speaks  the  four-quarters  are  chimed  out, 
and  the  church  clock  strikes  three. 

“ Eugenie  ! ” says  Hetty,  turning,  with  a faint  smile,  to 
the  woman  who  has  claimed  to  be  Lord  Claude’s  wife. 

But  the  Mexican  draws  back,  with  hate  glowing  in  her 
black,  wild-looking  eyes,  as  she  hisses  : 

“You  have  robbed  me  of  all  that  made  my  life  bright  and 
happy.  May  a broken-hearted  woman’s  curse  follow  you  ! ” 

“ How  horrible  ! ” cries  the  intended  bride,  shrinking 
back,  and  glancing  with  a mute  appeal  for  justice  to  Leon 
de  Maestro,  who  says  hurriedly  to  the  excited  woman  upon 
his  arm  : 

“Hush — hush  ! it  is  not  her  fault  ! ” 

But  it  is  Lord  Ingledene  who  takes  Hetty  upon  his  arm, 
as  though  he  had  a right  to  protect  her,  and  leads  her  into 
the  vestry,  the  rest  of  the  wedding  party  following  them, 


302 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


and  Leon  de  Maestro,  with  his  unhappy  sister  on  his  arm, 
bringing  up  the  rear. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  mute.  Lord  Ingledene’s  presence  over- 
awes her,  and  she  feels  with  intense  self-reproach  that, 
whatever  humiliation  may  come  to  Hetty  from  this  inter- 
rupted marriage,  the  blame  is  all  with  herself,  for  having 
forced  her  unwilling  child  into  such  a cruel  position. 

For  the  satisfaction  of  the  clergyman,  Leon  de  Maestro’s 
case  is  soon  stated  and  his  sister’s  marriage  certificate  is 
produced. 

“But  this  certifies  to  the  marriage  of  one  Laurence 
Trevor,”  remarks  the  rector,  severely. 

“And  that  is  the  man  who  called  himself  Laurence 
Trevor,”  asserts  Eugenie,  passionately,  “That  is  the  man 
who  was  my  husband.” 

She  points  with  anger  at  Lord  Claude,  but  he  replies, 
contemptuously: 

“You  mistake  some  other  person  for  me  ; I should  never 
have  been  so  foolish  as  to  marry  you.” 

“ I saw  the  death  of  one  Laurence  Trevor  in  the  Times 
of  the  20th  of  December  last,”  here  interposes  Lord  Ingle- 
dene.  “I  remember  cutting  out  the  slip.  Here  it  is.” 

But  Eugenie  cries,  wildly: 

“We  have  seen  it,  and  we  know  it  is  false!  There 
stands  my  perjured  husband,  and  you  know  it ! You  saw 
us  together  at  the  theater ; you  spoke  to  me  in  the  street 
the  next  day,  when  I lost  my  purse.  I did  not  know  your 
name,  but  I know  your  face ; I never  forget  a face  when 
once  I see  it.” 

“It  is  useless  to  continue  this  painful  scene,”  observes 
the  rector,  addressing  Lord  Claude,  in  a tone  expressive  of 
sympathy  for  his  unpleasant  position.  “ It  is  too  late  for 
the  marriage  to  be  celebrated  to-day,  otherwise  I am  bound 
to  say  that,  in  the  absence  of  more  definite  proof  of  this 
lady’s  claim  to  be  your  wife,  I should  not  hesitate  to  finish 
the  service  I began.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


303 


“To-morrow  then,”  says  his  lordship,  pale  with  passion, 
and  carrying  everything  before  him  with  a high  hand. 
“It’s  a pity  you  did  not  come  earlier,”  he  adds,  addressing 
Mrs.  Hamblin,  sharply. 

“ Hetty  was  ill,  she  fainted  ; I was  afraid  we  should  not 
get  here  at  all,”  is  the  timid  reply. 

For  Mrs.  Hamblin  is  agitated  by  more  causes  than  one, 
and  she  cannot  explain  here  that,  besides  reviving  her 
daughter  from  her  swoon,  she  had  spent  a good  half  hour 
in  vainly  trying  to  rouse  her  husband,  and  make  him 
sufficiently  sober  to  enable  him  to  give  his  daughter  away. 

“Very  well,  we  will  be  earlier  to-morrow,”  says  Lord 
Claude,  with  an  assumption  of  gayety,  and  he  offers  the 
bride  his  arm,  which  she  takes  reluctantly. 

Unconciously  she  had  clung  to  Lord  Ingledene  ; but  he 
hands  her  over,  as  a matter  of  course,  to  the  man  who,  but 
for  this  delay,  would  have  been  her  bridegroom  ; and  he  at 
once  offers  the  arm  that  has  been  just  freed  to  her  mother. 

“ I warn  you  that  we  have  ample  proof  that  Lord  Claude 
Irongate  and  Laurence  Trevor  are  one  and  the  same  per- 
son,” says  Leon  de  Maestro,  with  dignity  ; “and  I will  take 
good  care  that  he  does  my  sister  justice.” 

Then  the  party  pass  by  him,  walking  out  of  the  church 
as  though  the  marriage  had  actually  taken  place. 

Mrs.  Hamblin  is  on  Lord  Ingledene's  arm ; she  wears  a 
rich  dress  of  velvet,  that  is  not  ruby,  nor  crimson,  nor 
claret,  but  that  is  warm  and  bright,  and  even  youthful 
looking,  and  she  carries  herself  in  her  noble  company  like 
one  to  the  manner  born. 

“I  suppose  we  are  going  to  Colneford  Castle,”  says  his 
lordship,  as  they  follow  the  presumptive  bride  and  bride- 
groom to  the  church  door. 

“Probably,”  she  replies  ; “but  my  daughter  must  not  go 
without  me.  Please  arrange  it,  my  lord.” 

She  turns  her  eyes  upon  his,  and  he  answers,  promptly  : 

“I  will” 


304 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


But  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  arrange. 

Lord  Claude  is  angry  and  masterful ; and  if  Hetty  did 
not  turn  and  cling  to  her  mother,  he  would  carry  her  off, 
as  though  she  were  indeed  his  bride. 

In  this  he  is  thwarted,  however ; Lord  Ingledene  gets 
into  the  carriage  with  Hetty  and  her  mother,  and  Lord 
Claude  has  to  return  to  the  castle  as  he  came,  alone. 

They  have  proceeded  about  half  of  the  distance  they 
have  to  travel  when  Lord  Ingledene,  looking  fixedly  at  Mrs. 
Hamblin,  asks,  suddenly : 

“ Are  you  not  my  sister  Harriet  ? ” 

The  question  takes  her  so  much  by  surprise  that  she 
answers  in  the  affirmative  without  hesitation. 

“I  felt  sure  of  it  the  moment  I saw  you,”  returns  his 
lordship.  “ But  where  is  your  husband  ? ” 

“ At  home  — dead  drunk  ! ” she  replies,  with  unutterable 
scorn. 

And  he,  touched  by  her  mute  misery,  ejaculates  : 

“Poor  girl ! what  you  .must  have  suffered  L” 

“ Ah,  yes  ! ” she  responds,  with  a deep  sigh.  “ Better  I 
had  died  and  been  buried  than  have  made  such  an  unutter- 
ably insane  marriage.” 

“ It  has  been  bad  for  us  all,”  he  assents,  sadly.  “ But  you 
have  a brother  in  me,  and  my  doors  are  open  to  you  and 
your  daughter,  come  to  me  when  you  will.” 

“You  were  always  kind  of  heart,  George,”  says  the 
saddened  woman,  “and  your  goodness  is  more  than  I 
deserve.” 

“Happy  for  us  we  don’t  all  get  our  deserts,”  Lord 
Ingledene  says  to  Mrs.  Hamblin,  with  an  uneasy  laugh. 
“And  listen,”  he  continues,  “this  marriage  must  not 
take  place  to-morrow  — this  matter  must  be  cleared  up  first. 
I am  not  at  all  sure  that  the  dark  woman  isn’t  really  Lord 
Claude’s  wife.  Will  she  fret  very  much  if  it  never  takes 
place  ? ” 

He  glances  at  Hetty,  who  is  leaning  back  in  her  corner. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  305 

her  eyes  closed,  her  cheeks  white,  and  an  expression  of 
passionate  suffering  upon  her  lovely  countenance. 

“ Fret ! ” repeats  the  mother,  disdainfully.  “ She  hates 
him  ! ” 

“ In  that  case  she  shall  not  marry  him  ! ” is  the  emphatic 
exclamation.  “ But  here  we  are.  For  a time  we  must  keep 
up  appearances.” 

And  as  he  speaks  the  carriage  pulls  up  at  the  entrance  of 
Colnehurst  Castle,  where  Lord  Claude  stands  waiting  to 
receive  them. 

But  who  is  this  coming  up  the  avenue,  running,  her  face 
white,  her  hair  floating  wildly  behind  her  ? 

Mrs.  Hamblin  catches  sight  of  the  girl,  recognizes  her, 
with  a sudden  tightening  of  the  breath,  pauses,  and  asks  : 

“Well!” 

“ The  master’s  dead,  ma’am  ! ” gasps  poor  Molly.  “ He 
took  a bottle  of  brandy  when  you  left  the  house,  and  said 
he’d  drink  Miss  Hetty’s  health;  and  then  he  fell  down  in  a 
fit,  and  I couldn’t  rouse  him,  and  I called  in  the  men,  but 
they  said  he  was  gone.” 

“He  could  not  have  gone  at  a better  time,”  mutters  Lord 
Ingledene,  under  his  breath;  but,  aloud,  he  says  : 

“ Go  to  the  servants’  hall,  my  good  girl,  till  you  are 
wanted.” 

Then  he  gives  his  sister  his  arm,  while  Hetty  is  carried, 
rather  than  led,  into  the  mansion. 

This  has  been  a tragic  day  for  her,  poor  girl  ! But  the 
tragedies  are  not  yet  over,  for  those  who  sow  the  storm  will 
surely  reap  the  whirlwind. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  news  of  her  father’s  death  seems  to  Hetty’s  stunned 
sensibilities  like  a crushing  blow  that  takes  from  her  the 
power  of  greater  suffering,  so  that  her  mother  and  Mrs. 


306 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


Beevor  are  frightened  by  the  stony  calmness  that  comes 
over  the  girl  who  should  now  have  been  a bride. 

But  when  her  mother  bursts  into  tears,  reproaching  her- 
self with  having  wished  for  her  husbands  death,  the  flood- 
gates of  the  girl’s  heart  are  unlocked,  and  they  weep 
together,  wildly  and  passionately,  with  a violence  of  grief 
on  one  side  and  of  self-condemnation  on  the  other  that 
must  from  its  extreme  character  be  only  temporary. 

Meanwhile,  Lord  Ingledene  and  Lord  Claude  Irongate 
are  having  a conversation  which  is  not  altogether  pleasant. 

“ Could  anything  have  been  more  unfortunate  than  this 
man’s  death  at  this  moment  ? ” cries  Lord  Claude,  passion- 
ately. “ I had  determined  to  marry  his  daughter  to-mor- 
row, in  defiance  of  everybody  and  everything,  at  all 
hazards  ; and  now  he  dies  in  this  disgraceful  fashion,  and 
the  women  are  sure  to  say  that  it  won’t  be  decent  for  a girl 
to  get  married  while  her  father  is  lying  dead  and  nncof- 
fined.” 

“In  that  they  will  undoubtedly  be  in  the  right,” 
responds  Lord  Ingledene,  coldly. 

And  Lord  Claude  observes  that  the  tone  of  his  former 
boon  companion  has  changed ; that  he  utters  his  opinion 
like  one  having  authority,  like  one  having  a right  to  be 
heard  ; as  though  indeed,  by  accepting  the  office  of  giving 
the  bride  away,  he  had  become  her  legal  protector. 

“It’s  all  very  well  for  yon  to  take  their  part,”  exclaims 
Lord  Claude,  irritably ; “ you  don’t  seem  to  consider  the 
unpleasant  situation  it  leaves  me  in.  If  I don’t  marry  Hetty 
to-morrow,  as  I declared  I would  do.  :t  will  be  in  the 
mouth  of  everybody  that  there  was  trntn  in  that  woman’s 
story,  told  to-day  in  the  church.” 

“ And  is  there  no  truth  in  it  ? ” asks  Lord  Ingledene,  so 
calmly,  so  deliberately,  that  Lord  Claude’s  face  changes. 

The  heat  of  his  anger  gives  place  to  a cold  pallor,  even  his 
lips  become  white  ; and  though  he  tries  to  assume  a bold 
front,  his  eye  is  unsteady  and  shifty  as  he  retorts: 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


307 


“I  don’t  understand  your  insinuation  ; explain  yourself  ! ” 
“The  explanation  is  simple/’  returns  Lord  Ingledene, 
calmly.  “ I met  you  at  a theater  more  than  twelve  months 
ago,  with  a dark-eyed  lady  whose  face  could  not  easily  be 
forgotten.  You  did  not  introduce  us,  but  the  next  day  I 
recognized  her  in  Eegent  street,  standing  before  a milliner’s 
shop,  and  I saw  a woman  pick  her  pocket  and  make  off 
with  her  purse  down  one  of  the  side  streets.  Naturally  I 
addressed  the  lady,  we  got  into  conversation,  she  spoke  of 
you  as  her  husband,  not  once,  but  half  a dozen  times,  and 
she  was  evidently  so  sincere  in  supposing  me  to  be  her  hus- 
band’s friend  that  I saw  her  into  a cab  and  sent  her  home. 
I ascertained  at  the  same  time  that  her  husband’s  name  was 
Laurence  Trevor,  and  that  the  happy  couple  lived  at  the 
Swan’s  Nest,  Hammersmith.  That  was  why  I cut  out  the 
announcement  of  the  death  of  Laurence  Trevor  at  sea  on 
December,  the  20th.” 

“You  were  fooled,  as  usual,  with  a pair  of  bright  eyes,” 
sneers  Lord  Claude,  slightingly.  “I  should  never  have 
been  idiot  enough  to  marry  a woman  like  that.” 

“I  am  not  going  to  contest  that  point,”  replies  Lord 
Ingledene,  quietly,  but  the  matter  must  be  thoroughly 
cleared  up  before  you  think  of  marrying  my  niece.” 

“Your  niece!”  ejaculates  Lord  Claude,  incredulously. 
“What  do  you  mean?  How  can  Hetty  Hamblin  be  any- 
thing to  you  ? ” 

“ Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  do  not  know  that  Mrs. 
Hamblin  is  my  sister  ? ” asks  the  peer,  sternly, 

“Of  course  I do  not  know  it,”  is  the  evidently  sincere 
reply.  “How  should  I ? Neither  Hamblin  nor  his  wife 
ever  mentioned  your  name  to  me,  and  Hetty,  I am  con- 
vinced, did  not  know  anything  about  you.” 

“ Then  why  did  you  request  me  to  give  her  away  to-day, 
when  her  father  failed  to  appear  at  church  ? ” demanded 
Lord  Ingledene,  sternly. 

“ Because  you  happened  to  be  at  hand  and  we  had  no 


808  FOILED  BY  LOVE . 

time  to  lose/’  is  the  truthful  reply.  “ You  were  my  oldest 
friend  present,,  and  I naturally  turned  to  you.” 

“ Still,  the  moment  I saw  the  girl’s  mother  I thought  you 
knew  all  about  her/’  says  Lord  Ingledene,  uneasily. 

“No,  I know  nothing  of  the  mother’s  history/’  asserts 
Lord  Claude,  gloomily.  “I  saw  that  she  was  greatly  supe- 
rior to  her  husband,  of  course,  though  she  never  volunteered 
any  information  about  herself.  But  how  did  it  all  come 
about  ? Did  you  know  that  your  sister  was  living  at  Stan- 
moor  ? ” 

“No,  I didn’t  know  what  had  become  of  her,”  replies 
Lord  Ingledene,  gravely.  “She  was  older  than  I,  you 
know,”  he  continues,  “and  I was  at  college  when  she  ran 
away  from  home  with  her  groom.  She  had  been  engaged 
to  Lord  Edward  Tavenner  some  years  previously,  but  it  was 
broken  off  mysteriously,  and  he  married  trie  lady  who  now 
bears  his  name.  I have  heard  that  my  sister  was  never  the 
same  after  that ; she  used  to  ride  and  drive  a great  deal,  and 
she  had  a favorite  groom,  with  whom  she  one  day  eloped. 
When  my  father  heard  that  she  had  married  this  fellow  he 
read  the  funeral  service  as  though  she  had  been  dead,  and 
forbade  her  name  ever  again  to  be  mentioned  in  his  pres- 
ence. What  became  of  my  sister  I did  not  know ; I never 
sought  her,  and  she  did  not  seek  me.  I had  even  forgotten 
the  name  of  her  husband.  But  when  I met  her  at  the 
church  door  to-day  I recognized  her  immediately,  though 
she  has  changed  greatly  since  we  last  parted.” 

“Well,  and  what  do  you  propose  to  do?”  asks  Lord 
Claude,  gloomily.  % 

He  begins  dimly  to  realize  that  a strong  protector  has 
sprung  up  for  Hetty  Hamblin,  a kinsman  whose  claim  to 
succor  her  cannot  be  disputed. 

“ I propose  to  take  my  sister  and  niece  to  my  own  house 
to-day  if  possible,”  is  the  emphatic  reply.  “What  future 
arrangements  are  made  must  depend  on  them.  It  is  useless 
for  you  and  me  to  discuss  what  a strong-headed  woman  like 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 309 

my  sister  and  a lovely  girl  like  iny  niece  may  decide  upon. 
They  will  tell  you  that  themselves  in  good  time,  I do  not 
doubt.” 

“Fate  is  against  me!”  groans  Lord  Claude,  bitterly. 
“ If  Hamblin  had  not  died  to-day,  I would  have  married  the 
girl  to-morrow,  spite  of  all  of  you.” 

“Yes,  if  he  had  not  died  I should  have  had  no 
right  to  interfere,”  responds  Lord  Ingledene,  quietly ; 
“but  since  lie’  is  dead,  my  sister  and  her  daughter  will 
naturally  look  to  me  for  protection.” 

Lord  Claude  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  turns  toward  the 
nearest  window,  through  which  he  can  see  the  snow-clad 
landscape. 

Gall  and  bitterness  are  in  his  heart.  In  the  moment  of 
triumph  the  cup  had  been  dashed  from  his  lips,  and  now 
the  conviction  slowly  creeps  into  his  soul  that  Hetty 
Hamblin  will  never  again  stand  by  his  side  at  the  altar, 
a passive  though  unwilling  bride. 

No,  if  her  father  had  lived,  if  her  mother's  kinsman  had 
not  so  unexpectedly  come  forward,  he  might  still  have 
carried  everything  with  a high  hand,  and  have  made  Hetty 
meet  him  at  the  chnrch  again  to-morrow,  and  this  time 
marry  him. 

But  Joe  Hamblin's  sudden  death  makes  this  impossible, 
and  he  does  not  doubt  that  Hetty's  unwillingness  to  become 
his  wife  will  carry  great  weight  with  her  uncle,  although 
hitherto  it  has  had  but  little  influence  upon  her  mother. 

As  for  Eugenie  and  Leon  de  Msestro,  he  is  prepared  to 
defy  them. 

That  he  did  marry  Eugenie  under  a false  name  is  but  too 
true,  but  he  believes  that  the  identity  of  Laurence  Trevor 
with  himself  can  never  be  proved. 

With  infinite  care  he  had  laid  his  plans.  He  had  amply 
provided  for  Eugenie  before  he  deserted  her,  and  after  that 
unfortunate  meeting  at  Walbersw)ick,  when  she  recognized 
him,  he  had,  as  we  know,  postponed  his  marriage  with 


310 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


Hetty,  made  his  appearance  again  at  the  Swanks  Nest,  hav- 
ing previously  ascertained  that  Eugenie  was  still  absent;  and, 
leaving  a letter  for  her  expressing  his  regret  at  not  finding 
her  at  home,  had  stated  that  he  was  going  to  America  and 
would  write  to  her  shortly. 

And  lie  did  take  a short  sea  trip,  losing  the  name  of 
Laurence  Trevor  on  the  way  and  returning  to  Colnehurst 
as  Lord  Claude  Irongate. 

So  perfect  does  he  believe  this  deceptive  chain  of  evi- 
dence to  be  that  even  Eugenie’s  appearance  in  church 
to-day  has  not  daunted  him  ; and  now,  as  he  sees  a carriage 
drive  uj)  the  avenue  and  Leon  de  Maestro  alight  from  it, 
accompanied  by  another  dark-eyed  foreigner,  his  temper 
rises,  he  rings  a bell  furiously,  and  orders  the  servant  who 
obeys  his  summons  to  tell  the  two  strangers  that  he  will 
not  see  them. 

But  De  Maestro  and  Di  Castro  will  not  be  denied  ; there 
is  an  unseemly  altercation  in  the  hall,  and  the  foreigners 
are  forcibly  ejected  by  the  servants,  while  Lord  Claude 
stands  coolly  by,  a supercilious  smile  curling  his  beautiful 
but  cruel  lips. 

“You  shall  pay  dearly  for  this  outrage  !”  cries  De  Maes- 
tro, shaking  his  clenched  hand  at  the  heartless  master  of 
the  proud  mansion. 

Words  that  are  remembered  against  him  with  fatal 
accuracy  ! 

When  the  first  outburst  of  grief  is  over  Hetty  becomes 
more  calm  and  collected,  but  she  is  still  too  agitated  to 
realize  the  marvelous  change  of  fortune  that  has  suddenly 
befallen  her  mother  and  herself. 

Indeed,  it  is  not  until  she  has  changed  her  wedding 
garments  for  those  of  mourning  — lias  bade  adieu  to  Lord 
Claude  and  Mrs.  Beevor,  and  finds  herself  once  more  in  a 
carriage  with  her  mother  and  Lord  Ingledene,  that  the  fact 
dawns  slowly  upon  her  mind  that  neither  Stanmoor  not 
Colnehurst  Castle  will  henceforth  be  her  home. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


311 


It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  Mrs.  Hamblin’s  silent  but 
deep-felt  emotion  at  once  more  finding  herself  under  the 
roof  that  had  sheltered  her  infancy  and  girlhood. 

Madly  had  she  forfeited  the  right  to  live  here,  and  only 
after  passing  through  great  tribulation  has  she  been  per- 
mitted to  come  back  to  the  home  of  her  ancestors,  a broken- 
hearted and  broken-spirited  woman. 

But  we  must  not  leave  Colnehurst  Castle  just  yet,  though 
our  heroine  has  so  speedily  done  so. 

Lord  Claude  is  like  a man  deranged  when  he  watches  the 
carriage  drive  away  in  which  sits  the  girl  whom,  only  a few 
hours  ago,  he  believed  would  be  his  bride. 

His  aunt  avoids  him,  his  servants  shrink  out  of  his  way ; 
the  house  is  intolerable  to  him,  and  a sudden  desire  comes 
over  him  to  look  upon  Joe  Hamblin’s  moveless  face,  to 
assure  himself  past  all  doubt  that  the  man  who  would  now 
be  most  valuable  to  him  is  dead. 

So  he  sets  off  in  the  dim  twilight  to  walk  to  Stanmoor, 
feeling,  perhaps,  that  the  exertion  necessary  for  the  walk 
will  do  him  good. 

But  he  never  reaches  Stanmoor  ; neither  does  he  return 
to  Colnehurst  Castle. 

His  movements  at  all  times  are  so  secret  and  so  uncertain 
that  his  aunt  and  servants  do  not  trouble  themselves  at  his 
absence  ; and  late  at  night  snow  falls  again,  one  of  the 
heaviest  falls  of  the  season,  and  no  single  person  troubles 
himself  to  seek  for  the  missing  nobleman. 

It  is  not,  indeed,  until  a thaw  sets  in  that  a terrible  dis- 
covery is  made  in  the  lane  leading  from  the  high-road  to 
Stanmoor. 

The  body  of  a man  rolled  into  a ditch,  that  has  been  bur- 
ied under  the  snow,  is  found  ; and,  when  it  is  identified  as 
that  of  Lord  Claude  Irongate,  it  is  likewise  discovered  that 
he  has  been  foully  murdered. 

Of  course  there  is  a hue  and  cry  all  over  the  country ; it 
is  not  every  day  that  the  son  of  a peer  is  murdered  on  his 


912 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


own  estate,  and  suspicion  of  having  committed  the  deed  at 
once  falls  upon  Leon  de  Maestro,  whose  threats  are  so  well 
remembered. 

The  first  to  denounce  her  brother  as  a murderer  is 
Eugenie. 

She  has  been  in  a wild,  unsettled  condition  of  mind  ever 
since  she  saw  her  husband  standing  at  the  altar,  eager  to 
make  another  girl  his  wife. 

All  her  brother’s  efforts  have  failed  to  induce  her  to  leave 
Colneford.  She  is  determined  to  see  Lord  Claude  again,  to 
see  him  alone,  and  when  she  hears  of  his  awful  death  she 
makes  her  way  to  the  castle,  where  his  body  lies,  demands 
to  pray  by  the  side  of  her  husband ; and  the  scared  servants 
lead  the  way  to  the  darkened  chamber,  where  all  that  is 
mortal  remains  of  him  who  in  life  had  turned  from  her 
with  hate  and  loathing. 

And  they  leave  them  together,  the  living  and  the  dead ; 
but  when  they  return  an  hour  later  the  living  is  no  more, 
in  death  at  least  they  are  united. 

Thus  Eugenie’s  life’s  tragedy  ends,  but  her  unfortunate 
brother  lies  in  prison,  charged  with  the  murder  of  the  man 
against  whom  he  had  such  good  cause  to  vow  vengeance. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Let  us  turn  to  a brighter  picture. 

It  is  two  months  later  than  the  events  recorded  in  the 
last  chapter. 

The  snow  has  departed,  the  landscape  has  upon  it  that 
fresh,  bright  tint  of  green  peculiar  to  early  spring,  the  trees 
are  beginning  to  shoot  forth  their  tender  buds,  and  the  song 
of  the  lark  is  heard  as  he  soars  higher  still  and  higher  in 
the  deep  blue  sky,  pouring  from  its  throat  a flood  of  melody. 

And  Hetty  Hamblin,  living  in  her  uncle’s  house,  seeing 
around  her  portraits  of  her  ancestors  ; coming  home,  as  it 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


313 


were,  to  the  position  in  the  world  for  which  Nature  intended 
her,  soon  begins  to  regard  her  past  life  as  being  but  little 
more  substantial  than  a dream. 

Not  all  a dream,  however;  the  memory  of  poor  Chris, 
who  was  always  kind  to  her,  and  of  her  father,  who,  with 
all  his  faults,  loved  her  dearly,  still  lingers  with  her  ten- 
derly. And  there  are  other  thoughts  that  nestle  in  her 
heart,  and  find  as  yet  no  expression  in  words. 

Gilbert  Tavenner  did  not  die  from  his  wound,  as  Molly 
reported  on  the  morning  that  was  to  have  seen  Hetty  a 
bride,  but  he  was  very  ill,  dangerously  ill,  and  for  awhile 
his  life  was  despaired  of. 

His  previous  illness  had  weakened  him,  and  it  was  evet 
upon  his  mind  that  Hetty  was  being  kept  away  from  him, 
so  that  even  in  his  delirium  he  called  her  name  again  and 
again,  refusing  to  be  comforted. 

Indeed,  when  the  fever  at  length  leaves  him,  he  is  so  low 
and  so  spiritless  that  the  doctor  is  in  despair,  and  it  is  his 
college  friend,  Cyrus  Grandville,  who  determines  to  try  his 
Lkill  in  rousing  the  man  to  a desire  to  live. 

At  first,  as  though  he  were  merely  telling  the  invalid  a 
piece  of  local  gossip,  he  describes  Lord  Claude  Irongate's 
interrupted  wedding,  and  the  astounding  discovery  made 
immediately  afterward  that  Mrs.  Hamblin,  the  dead  train- 
er's wife,  was  the  sister  of  Lord  Ingledene. 

But  before  he  gets  thus  far  Gilbert's  interest  is  aroused. 

He  asks  questions  feverishly,  eagerly,  and  gradually  1m 
learns  all  that  his  friend  can  tell  him  — Joe  Hamblin's 
death,  Lord  Claude's  tragic  end,  and  the  fact  that  Hetty 
and  her  mother  are  now  living  at  Ingledene  Hall. 

“ Then  the  promise  I made  my  mother  when  I came  of 
age,  that  without  her  consent  I would  never  marry  a girl  of 
humble  rank,  does  not  apply  to  Hetty,”  cries  Gilbert,  anx- 
iously ; "the. niece  .of  Lord  Ingledene  is  my  social  equal. 
But  does  she  love  me  ? Is  it.  possible,  do  you  think,  Grand- 

31; 


314 


FOILED  BY  LOVE . 


ville,  for  a girl  to  love  one  man  and  yet  go  to  the  altar 
to  marry  another  ? ” 

“I  dare  say  it  is/5  replies  the  young  clergyman,  sadly. 
“ You  don't  know  what  pressure  might  have  been  brought 
to  bear  upon  her  ; and  it  looked  like  lore,  her  coming  here 
on  foot,  through  that  dreadful  snow,  to  warn  your  mother 
of  the  attack  upon  the  house  that  was  afterward  made.55 

“ But  it  was  not  Hetty  — surely  it  was  not  Hetty  who 
came  to  give  the  warning  ! ” cries  Gilbert,  excitedly. 

“It  was,  your  mother  told  me  so  at  the  time,”  replies 
Cyrus  Grandville,  gravely.  “I  expostulated  with  her  for 
allowing  the  poor  girl  to  go  home  alone,  on  foot,  in  such  a 
snowstorm ; but  she  said,  truly  enough  no  doubt,  that  the 
girl  was  gone  before  she  could  detain  her.55 

“ Ah  ! what  you  have  told  me  accounts  for  my  mother's 
strange  behavior  of  late,55  sighs  Gilbert,  faintly.  “I  have 
been  able  to  learn  nothing  from  her  about  Hetty  except 
that  she  is  well  and  unmarried.” 

“Yes,  that  is  all  you  need  know  at  present,”  responds 
Grandville,  smiling  ; “ and  now  you  have  to  make  haste  and 
get  well  and  go  a- wooing  before  any  other  rival  steps  in  to 
win  the  prize.” 

Gilbert  smiles.  He  thinks  that  his  difficulties  have  all 
disappeared ; that  he  has  only  to  get  back  his  health  and 
strength  to  seek  Hetty  and  win  her. 

But  the  task  before  him  is  not  so  easy  as  he  at  first  sup- 
poses. 

His  mother  feels  herself  to  be  in  the  wrong,  and  the 
breach  that  had  been  made  between  Hetty's  mother  and 
herself  has  never  been  healed,  and  is  never  likely  to  be. 

To  sue  for  pardon  and  confess  herself  to  be  wrong  is  a 
thing  which  the  mother  of  the  future  Duke  of  Sandhaven 
will  never  bring  herself  to  do;  and,  when  Gilbert  is  stronger 
and  suggests  that  she  shall  go  with  him  to  Ingledene  Hall, 
to  call  upon  Mrs.  Hamblin  and  her  daughter,  she  emphatic* 
ally  refuses  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 


FOILED  BY  LOVE.  315 

“Very  well,  then  I shall  go  alone/’  says  the  young  man, 
resolutely. 

“And  be  snubbed  for  your  pains,”  retorts  Lady  Edward, 
angrily. 

“Perhaps  so,”  he  replies,  quietly,  “but  if  Hetty  does  not 
snub  me  I shall  not  care  for  the  rest.” 

A remark  which  his  mother  receives  with  unconcealed 
impatience. 

Personally  she  has  no  objection  to  Hetty;  on  the  contrary 
she  likes  her  ; but  to  go  and  sue  for  the  hand  of  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  woman  she  once  wronged  is  far  more  than  her 
pride  will  ever  allow  her  to  do. 

But  love  laughs  at  difficulties  as  he  laughs  at  locksmiths, 
and  as  soon  as  Gilbert  Tavenner  is  strong  enough  to  bear 
the  fatigues  of  a long  drive  he  determines  to  go  to  Ingle- 
dene  Hall,  ask  to  see  Hetty,  plead  his  suit  and  formally  pro- 
pose for  her  hand. 

Meanwhile  Hetty  is  happy  in  her  new  home  and  under 
her  vastly  improved  circumstances,  but  her  happiness  is  not 
perfect. 

Her  uncle  is  kindness  itself,  and  she  soon  learns  to  love 
him.  The  old  hall  is  the  most  perfect  place  she  ever  saw 
or  dreamed  of  — so  old-fashioned,  so  big  and  rambling  ; and 
many  of  the  servants  have  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  the 
Ingledenes. 

From  the  housekeeper,  who  was  once  her  mother's  nurse, 
Hetty  hears  what  Mrs.  Hamblin  would  never  tell  her 
daughter  — namely,  how  she  came  to  know  and  marry  a 
man  so  far  below  her  in  station  as  handsome  Joe  Hamblin. 

She  hears,  too,  of  her  stern,  old  grandfather,  who  loved 
his  daughter  so  well  that  her  folly  broke  his  heart,  and  the 
imaginative  girl  reads  and  dreams  at  such  times  as  she  is 
not  engage  with  the  masters  whom  her  uncle  has  engaged 
to  superintend  her  painting  and  music,  and  the  study  of 
foreign  languages,  in  which  he  wishes  her  to  be  proficient 


316 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


So  her  time  is  well  and  profitably  filled,  and  yet  she  has 
ample  leisure  for  thought. 

She  has  heard  from  her  uncle  that  Gilbert  Tavenner  is 
slowly  regaining  health  and  strength,  and  she  wonders, 
timidly,  if  he  and  she  will  ever  meet  again. 

Very  tenderly  and  lovingly  she  thinks  of  him,  but  for 
all  this  there  is  a little  resentment  in  her  gentle  heart  at 
his  unbroken  silence. 

“If  he  loved  me,”  she  argues,  “he  would  surely  have 
made  some  effort  to  save  me  from  becoming  Lord  Claude's 
wife,”  and  she  remembers  sadly  that  her  interrupted  mar- 
riage was  due  to  no  act  or  endeavor  upon  his  part  to  save 
her  for  himself. 

She  is  thus  thinking  this  morning  as  she  is  stitching 
some  fine  embroidery,  while  her  mother  is  reading  aloud, 
when  her  uncle  taps  lightly  at  the  door,  and,  being  bidden 
to  do  so,  walks  in. 

For  this  is  the  ladies*  morning-room,  and  here  he  never, 
unannounced,  intrudes  upon  their  privacy. 

“Harriet,”  he  says,  addressing  his  sister,  “my  lawyer  is 
in  the  study,  taking  instructions  for  a deed,  and  he  wants 
to  look  at  your  marriage  certificate  — have  you  it  here  ? ” 

“Yes  ; in  that  writing-case,”  is  the  reply. 

And,  as  his  lordship  hands  it  over  to  her,  Mrs.  Hamblin 
selects  a key  from  the  bunch  she  carries  in  her  pocket,  and 
carelessly  unlocks  the  desk. 

If  the  world  had  not  changed  with  her  so  wonderfully  of 
late,  she  might  remember  why  she  last  went  to  the  secret 
drawer  in  this  desk,  and,  remembering  what  she  had  hidden 
there,  wTould  hesitate  to  open  the  recess  in  the  presence  of 
her  daughter.  But  the  circumstance  has,  for  the  time, 
passed  out  of  her  mind  ; Hetty*s  admirers  are  things  of  the 
past,  they  do  not  trouble  her  at  present,  and,  passing  her 
hand  under  some  loose  papers,  she  touches  a spring,  and  a 
drawer  flies  open  — opens  with  such  a jerk  that,  being  over- 


Foiled  by  love.  317 

full,  the  paper  that  lay  on  the  top  literally  jumps  out  onto 
Hetty’s  lap. 

For  the  girl  to  take  it  in  her  hand  and  look  at  it  is  but 
natural ; and  a cry  of  surprise  issues  from  her  lips,  for  this 
is  a letter  — a sealed  letter  — bearing  many  foreign  post- 
marks, and  addressed  to  herself. 

“Mother,  when  did  this  come?  Why  have  I not  had 
it  ? ” she  asks,  with  unconscious  indignation. 

“ It  came  not  long  before  we  left  Stanmoor.  I thought 
it  would  upset  you  and  I put  it  here  for  safety  — it  is  not 
opened  you  see  — and  afterward  I really  forgot  it.” 

“I  see.  Were  there  any  more  besides  this  that  were  kept 
from  me  ? ” asks  Hetty,  keeping  down  her  anger  with  a 
strong  hand. 

“No,  that  was  the  only  one,”  is  the  emphatic  reply. 

And,  as  the  girl  takes  her  newly-found  treasure  to  her 
own  room  to  read  it  alone,  Mrs.  Hamblin  turns  to  her 
brother,  and  says,  plaintively  : 

“ She  will  never  forgive  me  ! She  always  trusted  me  so 
fully  ; and  she  will  doubt  me  now  ! I wish  I had  destroyed 
the  letter  ; it  would  have  made  no  difference  to  anybody.” 

“ I don’t  agree  with  you  there,”  responds  Lord  Ingledene, 
with  a smile.  I never  saw  Hetty  look  more  beautiful  than 
when  she  clasped  that  letter  to  her  bosom.  It  is  from 
young  Tavenner,  I suppose.” 

“Yes,  I believe  so,”  is  the  cold  and  laconic  reply. 

“ A capital  young  fellow,”  continues  his  lordship,  genially; 
“ clever  and  well  spoken  of  by  those  who  know  him,  and  a 
splendid  match  for  any  woman  who  can  win  him.  The  old 
fluke  is  on  his  last  legs.” 

“He  is  well  enough  in  himself,”  replies  Mrs.  Hamblin  in 
a slighting  tone,  “ but  I can  never  forget  the  wrong  his 
mother  did  me.” 

“ Don’t  you  think  it  would  be  well  to  let  by-gones  be 
by-gones,  and  to  take  people  as  we  find  them  ? ” asks  Lord 
Ingledene,  significantly. 


m 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

And  his  sister  wisely  takes  the  hint,  and  mutters,  audibly: 

“ Perhaps  you  are  right.” 

Hetty,  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  chamber,  reads  her 
love-letter  with  beating  heart  and  eager  eyes. 

It  is  her  first  love-letter.  It  breathes  words  of  passionate 
devotion,  and  it  contains  an  earnest  prayer  that  she  will 
wait  for  the  writer ; that  she  will  not  allow  herself  to  be 
given  to  another,  but  will  have  faith  in  him  until  he  can 
surmount  all  obstacles  and  claim  her  for  his  own. 

How  she  reads  this  letter  over  and  over  again,  and  presses 
it  to  her  lips,  and  hides  it  in  her  bosom  when  she  has  to 
descend  to  luncheon,  it  were  vain  to  tell. 

The  loving  words  it  contains  still  fill  her  thoughts  to  the 
exclusion  of  any  other  subject,  and  she  smiles  to  herself 
softly  and  sweetly,  thinking  of  Gilbert,  and  assuring  herself 
that  he  cannot  now  be  much  longer  in  coming. 

Her  mother  is  still  laboring  under  the  unpleasant  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  something  which  she  would  rather 
have  left  undone;  and,  not  being  in  a mood  to  converse  with 
her  daughter  upon  the  subject  which  evidently  fills  the 
giiTs  mind,  she,  directly  luncheon  is  over,  goes  to  visit  an 
old  lady  who  was  a friend  of  her  mother,  and  who  is  now 
an  invalid,  though  she  was  one  of  the  first,  on  Mrs.  Ham- 
blinds  return  home,  to  send  loving  messages  to  her. 

Hetty  rarely  accompanies  her  mother  when  she  goes  to 
see  Mrs.  Nethercliff,  and  this  afternoon  she  does  not  volun- 
teer to  do  so. 

Lord  Ingledene  is  still  busy  with  his  lawyer,  and  Hetty 
wanders  into  a conservatory  leading  out  of  the  south  draw- 
ing-room, which  runs  along  the  length  of  one  side  of  the 
old  mansion. 

This  conservatory  is  a favorite  spot  with  our  heroine;  it 
is  warm,  and  bright  on  the  very  coldest  and  gloomiest  day. 

Here,  standing  about  as  though  they  were  human  beings 
who  objected  to  be  sorted,  are  rare  plants  and  palms;  there 
is  a fountain,  there  are  divans  and  chairs  and  lounges,  and 


FOILED  i?r  LOVE.  319 

there  are  small  tables,  upon  which  stand  illustrated  and 
comic  papers,  a few  of  the  latest  magazines,  and  a volume 
or  two  of  poetry. 

But  Hetty  is  restless  this  afternoon,  she  cannot  settle  her- 
self to  any  occupation,  and  she  is  standing  by  a huge  globe 
of  gold-fish,  watching  its  glittering  occupants,  when  the 
sound  of  voices  reaches  her,  and  the  next  instant  her  uncle 
appears,  and  exclaims  : 

“ Ah,  here  she  is  ! ” 

A second  or  two  later  Gilbert  Tavenner  is  standing  before 
her,  clasping  her  hand  in  his  own  ; while  she  can  scarcely 
see  him,  for  her  eyes  swim,  and  she  feels,  for  the  moment, 
as  though  she  must  fall. 

I t is  the  voice  of  her  uncle  that  rouses  her  as  he  says: 
“You  will  have  to  entertain  Mr.  Tavenner  for  a little 
while,  Hetty,  for  I am  busy,  as  you  know  ; but  try  and 
persuade  him  to  stay  to  dinner,  if  you  can.” 

Then  Lord  Ingledene  considerately  leaves  them,  and 
the  lovers  are  only  conscious  that  they  are  alone. 

For  a few  seconds  there  is  silence  between  them. 

Words  seem  hard  to  speak  when  the  heart  is  full,  and  it 
is  Hetty  who  at  length  asks,  timidly,  as  she  withdraws  her 
hand  from  his  warm  clasp: 

“Are  you  better  ? You  have  been  ill,  have  you  not  ?” 
“Yes,  very  ill,”  he  replies,  tenderly;  “and  but  for  you, 
I might  not  now  be  alive.” 

“ I ? ” she  asks.  “ What  did  I do  to  save  you  ? ” 

“You  warned  my  mother,  did  you  not,  of  the  intention 
of  the  thieves  to  break  into  our  house  ? ” 

“Yes;  and  I have  sometimes  thought  I had  better  not 
have  done  so,”  she  replies,  with  a smile  ; “for  then,  though 
they  might  have  taken  your  property,  they  might  not  have 
endangered  your  life.” 

“And  they  might  have  killed  us  all  as  we  slept,”  he 
retorts,  “ and  in  that  case  I should  not  have  been  here  to 
thank  you.  It  is  the  first  time  I have  been  able  to  get  so 


m FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

far,”  he  adds,  a sudden  pallor  overspreading  his  handsome 

face. 

“ Oh,  do  sit  down  ! ” cries  Hetty,  leading  him  to  a divan. 
“Can  I get  you  anything  ? ” she  asks,  with  solicitude  ; “a 
glass  of  wine,  or  anything  ? ” 

“No,  nothing;  but  sit  by  me,”  he  says,  in  alow  tone, 
and  he  holds  her  hand  in  his  own,  while  he  recovers  from 
the  faintness  that  was  coming  over  him.  Presently  he  asks: 
“Hetty,  why  didn’t  you  answer  my  letter  or  take  any 
notice  tf  it  ? ” 

“ I only  knew  a couple  of  hours  ago  that  you  had  written 
it,”  she  replies.  “I  thought  you  had  quite  forgotten  me.” 
“ Forgotten  you  ! ” he  repeats,  passionately.  “ I shall  only 
forget  you  when  I ceased  to  remember  everything.  Do  you 
recollect  our  conversation  when  last  we  parted  ? ” he  asks, 
tenderly.  “Your  mother  interrupted  us,”  he  continues, 
“ but  I told  you  then,  as  I told  you  in  my  letter,  as  I tell 
you  now  again,  I love  you  — I want  you  to  be  my  wife.” 
Hetty  blushes  sweetly  and  makes  no  reply.  But  she  does 
not  repulse  the  arm  that  embraces  her,  does  not  shrink  back 
with  abhorrence  from  the  lips  that  so  passionately  kiss  her 
own,  and  after  a little  while  she  is  won  to  confess  that  she 
does  love  him,  and  after  much  persuasion  is  induced  to 
return  one  of  the  many  kisses  he  so  freely  gives. 

Hetty  and  Gilbert  Tavenner  have  so  much  to  say  to  each 
other  regarding  the  past,  the  present  and  the  future,  and 
they  are  in  so  little  hurry  to  exhaust  the  subject  of  their 
mutual  love,  and  of  all  they  have  suffered  in  consequence, 
that  they  seem  to  have  spent  but  a very  short  time  together 
when  Lord  Ingledene  returns  to  them. 

His  lordship  has  been  discreet  enough  to  speak  in  a loud 
tone  to  a servant  before  turning  into -the  conservatory,  so  as 
to  give  the  lovers  timely  warning  of  his  approach  ; but  a 
glance  at  Hetty’s  blushing,  happy  face  tells  him  all  that  he 
wishes  to  know,  and  he  says,  carelessly  : 


I can  show  just  cause:  — This  woman  is  his  wife!”  exclaimed  a man,  leading  a dark-faced  woman  by  the  hand. 


Foiled  by  love . 321 

“ Your  mother  wants  you,  Hetty.  I hope  you  have  per- 
suaded Mr.  Tavernier  to  stay  to  dinner  ? ” 

“ I quite  forgot/’  replies  the  girl,  covered  with  confusion ; 
“ he  turned  faint,  and  ” 

“ Turned  faint  ? ” repeats  his  lordship.  “ Then  we  must 
? keep  him  till  to-morrow.  What  do  you  say,  my  dear 
| fellow  ? ” 

For  Hetty  has  gone. 

“You  are  very  good,”  replies  Gilbert;  “and  you  prob- 
; ably  know  why  I came  here.  Hetty  has  promised  to  be  my 
i wife,  but  I am  afraid  her  mother  does  not  regard  me  with 
favor.” 

“ If  you  and  Hetty  have  settled  the  matter  between  you, 
I will  manage  her  mother,”  replies  Lord  Ingledene,  gaily  ! 
7 “and  now  you  had  better  make  up  your  mind  to  stay  here 
a few  days  ; the  change  will  do  you  good.” 

“I  am  sure  it  will,”  is  the  reply,  “and  I should  like  it 
; above  all  things.” 

So  a telegram  is  sent  to  Hindfleet  Hall,  and  that  same 
night  Gilbert  Tavenner’s  valet  arrives  with  such  of  his 
master’s  wardrobe  as  he  requires. 

Space  forbids  us  to  linger  over  Hetty’s  happiness  ; suffice 
it  to  say  that,  before  Gilbert’s  visit  at  Ingledene  Hall  is 
over,  Mrs.  Hamblin  and  Lady  Edward  Tavenner  are  both 
convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  opposing  the  wishes  of  their 
children,  and  both  tacitly  agree  to  bridge  over  their  past 
differences,  and  consent  to  the  proposed  marriage  at  an  early 
elate. 

But  there  is  the  consent  of  one  other  person  to  be  asked, 
if  only  as  a compliment,  and  this  is  Gilbert’s  grandfather, 
the  Duke  of  Sandhaven.  His  grace  has  been  failing  fast  of 
late  ; but,  for  all  that,  it  is  a distinct  shock  to  Gilbert,  a 
couple  of  hours  after  his  return  home,  to  be  informed  of 
his  grandfather’s  sudden  death. 

“And  you  mean  to  make  Hetty  Hamblin,  that  drunken 
trainer’s  daughter,  Duchess  of  Sandhaven  ? ” asks  Lady 


322  FOILED  BY  LOVE. 

Edward  Tavenner,  disdainfully,  when  she  has  read  the 
telegram  aloud. 

-“Yes;  no  rank  is  too  high  for  her,  no  position  so  lofty 
that  she  will  not  grace  it  ! ” replies  her  son,  with  all  a lover's 
enthusiasm.  And  his  mother  turns  away  in  silence. 

It  is  her  last  protest  against  a marriage  which  she  cannot 
prevent,  and,  perhaps,  would  not  if  she  could. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

It  is  while  Gilbert  Tavenner,  now  Duke  of  Sandhaven, 
is  at  Black  Tor  Castle,  attending  the  funeral  of  his  grand- 
father, that  a small  tenant  on  the  estate  comes  to  Ingiedene 
Hall  and  asks  to  see  his  lordship. 

“If  you  please,  my  lord,”  says  the  man,  who  does  not 
possess  an  irreproachable  character  among  the  gamekeepers, 
“ there's  a chap  in  my  house  as  is  dying ; he  seems  to  have 
something  on  his  mind,  he  does,  but  he  won't  tell  it  to 
nobody  but  Miss  Hetty,  your  lordship's  niece.  He  was  in 
the  service,  or  worked  with  Miss  Hetty's  father,  and  he 
seems  to  know  all  about  her.” 

“ What  is  his  name?”  asks  Lord  Ingiedene,  curiously. 

“ Blake,  my  lord,  Jem  Blake  ; he  says  he  can't  die  in 
peace  till  lie's  seen  Miss  Hetty.” 

“ Wait  here  while  I speak  with  my  niece,”  says  his  lord- 
ship,  kindly. 

But  when,  some  ten  minutes  later.  Lord  Ingiedene  returns 
to  the  study,  his  face  looks  stern,  and  he  says,  gravely  : 

“ My  niece  cannot  go  to  this  man ; he  has  twice 
attempted  her  life,  and,  though  she  forgives  him,  you  may 
tell  him  that  she  does  not  wish  to  see  him  again.” 

“ He's  dying,  my  lord ; and  he  have  some  bad  deed  to 
tell  of,”  pleads  the  man.  “He  ought  to  tell  it  to  a magis- 
trate, and  so  I've  told  him  : but  he  does  nothing  but  cry 
for  Hetty.” 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


323 


“If  he  would  like  to  see  me,  I will  come;  and  I am  a 
magistrate  as  you  know,”  says  his  lordship,  resolutely ; 
“but  I will  not  allow  my  niece  to  speak  with,  him  again.” 

So  the  messenger  departs  and  returns,  and  when  he 
leaves  the  hall  again  he  is  accompanied  by  Lord  Ingledene. 

Upon  a miserable  bed,  in  a wretchedly-furnished  room, 
Jem  Blake,  the  stableman,  is  lying ; his  face  so  thin,  his 
frame  so  gaunt,  that  his  eyes  look  unnaturally  bright  and 
large ; and  there  is  a fierce,  hungry  light  in  them,  which 
makes  his  lordship  doubt  for  a moment  if  he  had  been  wise 
in  coming. 

“You  want  to  see  me?”  asks  Lord  Ingledene,  advancing 
to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

“No,  I want  to  see  Hetty  Hamblin,”  replies  Jem  Blake. 
“But  I 'spose  she's  afraid  to  come,  ain't  she  ? ” 

“Her  mother  will  not  allow  her  to  come,”  is  the  cautious 

reply. 

“Ah,  just  like  her  ! And  you  are  the  mother's  brother, 
ain't  you  ? Well,  you'll  have  to  do  ! ” 

A fit  of  coughing  seizes  him  here  and  shakes  his  poor, 
shrunken  frame  as  though  it  would  rend  it  asunder. 

When  he  can  speak  again,  his  voice  is  weaker,  and  he 
says,  hurriedly  : 

“I  must  be  quick ; I've  no  time  to  lose.  The  doctor  said 
I couldn't  live  through  the  night ; didn't  he,  Bill  ? ” 

This  to  the  man  who  fetched  his  lordship,  and  who 
replies,  carelessly  : 

“He  did,  Jem.” 

“Then  this  is  what  I've  got  to  say,  my  lord,”  says  Jem, 
resolutely.  “'Twas  me  that  shot  Lord  Claude  Irongate, 
and  not  the  foreign  chap  who's  lying  in  prison,  and  whose 
sister  my  lord  married.” 

“You!”  exclaims  Lord  Ingledene,  incredulously. 
“ Why  should  you  murder  him  ? What  harm  had  he  done 
you  ? ” 

“What  harm!  ” echoes  Jem  “harm  enough  ; he'd  robbed 


324 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


me  of  the  girl  I wanted,  and  he’d  thrashed  me  in  her  pres- 
ence within  an  inch  of  my  life!  1 was  bitter  against  Hetty 
till  she  begged  me  off  and  said  she’d  take  the  blows  herself 
if  he  struck  at  me  again,  and  then  I swore  I’d  be  revenged 
on  him.  I meant  to  have  shot  him  before  he  married  her, 
but  somehow  I couldn’t  do  it,  for  I thought  she’d  grieve 
for  him.  But  when  the  marriage  was  stopped  by  his  law- 
ful wife,  and  I saw  Hetty’s  face,  white  and  full  of  grief  as 
she  was  led  out  of  the  church,  I swore  he  should  never  see 
another  sunrise,  and  I kept  my  word.  I followed  him  as 
he  walked  to  Stanmoor  that  evening,  and  I shot  him  and 
rolled  him  into  a ditch,  and  the  snow  covered  him.  And 
that’s  all,  my  lord.  I ain’t  a bit  sorry  for  what  I’ve  done, 
and  I don’t  much  care  for  the  man  who  will  swing  for  my 
work  if  I don’t  split  on  myself ; but  Hetty  will  think  better 
of  me  for  doing  what  she’ll  call  an  act  of  justice.  Tell  her 

I do  it  for  her  sake  ; tell  her  ” 

But  the  cruel  cough  convulses  him  again,  and  though, 
with  the  aid  of  restoratives,  he  revives  sufficiently  to  sign 
the  hurriedly-written  confession,  the  end  is  so  near  that 
before  Lord  Ingledene  leaves  the  cottage  the  drama  is  over, 
and  Jem  Blake  has  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  human 
justice. 


One  scene  more  and  our  tale  is  told. 

We  have  followed  Hetty  Hamblin  from  obscurity  and 
poverty,  through  peril  and  much  tribulation,  to  wealth, 
happiness  and  an  exalted  position ; but  she  is  the  same 
Hetty  that  we  first  knew  — gentle,  tender  and  generous  in 
thought  as  in  deed. 

Once  again  she  is  dressed  as  a bride.  Once  again  the 
gleam  of  white  satin,  the  glitter  of  diamonds,  and  the 
emblematic  orange-blossoms  heighten  her  beauty,  but  the 
character  of  that  beauty  has  changed. 

Instead  of  a lethargy  consequent  upon  despair,  smiles 
wreath  her  lips  ; a bloom,  delicate  as  the  tint  of  a wild  rose, 


FOILED  BY  LOVE. 


325 


is  on  her  cheeks  ; her  glorious  eyes  are  alight  with  love 
and  hope  and  faith  ; and  her  mother,  who  observes  the  con- 
trast between  now  and  then,  turns  to  her  brother,  and  says, 
with  a sigh  : 

“ Ah  ! happiness  gives  a beauty  of  its  own  to  every  face.” 

Once  more  Lord  Ingledene  leads  the  bride  to  the  altar  ; 
but  it  is  not  the  same  church,  neither  is  the  bridegroom 
the  same. 

A wonderful  company  is  there.  Some  of  the  noblest  in 
the  land  have  come  to  grace  with  their  presence  the  mar- 
riage of  the  young  Duke  of  Sandhaven  with  Hetty  Ham- 
blin, the  trainer's  daughter. 

But  it  is  soon  over  ; the  benediction  is  uttered,  the  regis- 
ter is  signed,  the  goodly  company  follow  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  to  Ingledene  Hall  ; and  Gilbert,  the  moment 
he  is  alone  with  his  bride,  clasps  her  in  his  arms,  murmur- 
ing, in  joyous  ecstasy : 

“ Mine  at  last,  Hetty  ! Mine  forever  ! ” 


THE  END. 


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iasais  iiiiMi  imiaii 


THE  + MARGUERITE  + SERIES 


OF  HIGH  CLASS  NOVELS. 


No.  i.  Romance  of  Two  Worlds,  . Marie  Corelli 

% 

No.  a.  Won  by  Waiting-,  . . . Bdna  Byall 

No.  3.  The  Second  Wife,  . . . B.  Marlitt 

No.  4.  The  First  Violin,  . . Jessie  Fothergill 

No.  5.  Old  Mam’selle’s  Secret,  . . B.  Marlitt 

No.  6.  Her  Girlhood’s  Bover,  . . Bertha  N.  Clay 

No.  7.  Foiled  by  Bove,  • • • Bertha  N.  Clay 

No.  8.  For  the  Term  of  His  Natural  Bife,  Marcus  Clarke 
No.  9.  Was  She  to  Blame  ? . . Mrs.  Ah  ndc. 

No.  10.  When  a Woman  Boves,  . Beatrice  M&rean 
No.  11.  A Pair  of  Brown  Byes,  . Bertha  N.  Clay 
No.  12.  Humors  of  The  Fair,  . Julian  Hawthorne 
No.  13.  The  Owl’s  Nest,  . . . B.  Marlitt 

No.  14.  That  Fair  False  Woman,  . Mrs.  M.  A.  Holmes 


E.  A .WEEKS  & GOA\PANY,  Publishers, 

276  Sc  278  FRANKLIN  STREET, 


CHICA  OO 


